


The Spectre

by ArlyssTolero



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Spectre (Comics), Supergirl (TV 2015), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Oliver Queen, F/M, Post-Crisis on Infinite Earths Crossover Event (CW DC TV Universe), Spectre Oliver Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArlyssTolero/pseuds/ArlyssTolero
Summary: After his defeat of The Anti-Monitor at the beginning of time with the aid of the Paragons, Oliver Queen/The Spectre awakens in the present day on the island of Lian Yu and is informed by The Voice that the new universe is a very different place from the world he remembers, but it still suffers from corruption and injustice and needs a force like The Spectre to mete out justice where human laws fail. Grieving the loss of his family and his universe, Oliver throws himself into his new role, and becomes a force that even heroes dare not stand against.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Dinah Lance (Arrow) & Laurel Lance & Quentin Lance & Sara Lance, Dinah Lance (Arrow)/Quentin Lance, Laurel Lance & Tommy Merlyn & Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance/Tommy Merlyn, Malcolm Merlyn/Rebecca Merlyn, Moira Queen & Oliver Queen & Robert Queen, Moira Queen/Robert Queen, Sara Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 93
Kudos: 83





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Arrowverse. If I did, Oliver wouldn't have been constantly disrespected by piss-poor writing and one man's ego.

So, it’s been almost a year since I worked on anything that wasn’t centered around the pairing of Oliver Queen/Laurel Lance, and I’m beginning to burn out after having written three epic-length projects centered around that pairing (altogether with those 3 stories plus the deleted _Children of the Glades_ , I’ve written over 1,000,000 words based around the pairing in a little over a year). So, I am taking a break from writing the sequels to those stories and working on one of my old non-Lauriver projects. I spent nearly an entire day going over my old stuff, from the many Oliver/Sara projects I had to the _Arrow_ / _Supergirl_ crossovers I have attempted (except _A Different Kind of Operative_ , which I have no copy of at the moment), and even non-Arrowverse projects, trying to find one that called to me. The long and short of it is that pretty much every story was in need of a rework except this one. I found no major issues with this story the way I did with others, though I will say _The Emerald Queen_ very nearly took the lead if it weren’t for a few issues with the story that I found. As such, _The Spectre_ will have my focus for the time being while I work on reworking all those other stories, slowly, one at a time.

For those who don’t know, I first came up with this story shortly after the end of _Crisis on Infinite Earths_ , in part because I was pissed that, once again, Oliver’s sacrifice meant nothing since the Anti-Monitor survived Oliver’s attacks in Part Four despite seemingly being defeated. I was just so sick of everything Oliver did being meaningless to the writers/showrunners of the Arrowverse and decided that if they weren’t going to let Oliver have a win, I would write one for him myself. I happened to read a fic by Phillipe363 that turned out to be the basis for this story (that of Oliver surviving passed the end of the Crisis and becoming The Spectre on Earth-Prime), but I also knew I didn’t want to deal with the wonky ‘Paragons have memories of Earth-1/Earth-38 but not of Earth-Prime’ thing the showrunners have going so they don’t ‘erase’ all their hard work on the other shows. In this story, the Paragons all died at the beginning of time and the new versions of them on Earth-Prime do _not_ have memories from the previous universes.

Now, one thing that needs to be addressed, even though it should be obvious, is that Oliver is _not_ the Green Arrow in this. He is The Spectre, and that is more akin to how he was as The Hood, serving as judge, jury, and at times executioner (and in fact will be this more frequently as The Spectre than he was when he was The Hood). The Spectre is the Angel of Justice/Angel of Vengeance and The Voice’s right hand in matters of justice in the mortal realm. The Spectre’s actions are forms of absolute justice. In short, he _kills_ criminals and, in the comics, once wiped out an entire nation for their crimes based on the research I did when I was first writing this story. The Spectre’s power varies from incarnation to incarnation, with some versions being almost god-like in their powers to other variations being vulnerable to various attacks. In this story, Oliver/The Spectre is of the former variation with his only vulnerability being _magic_ and he will be executing justice in the way he is meant to as The Spectre rather than as a non-lethal or semi-non-lethal vigilante like Green Arrow.

As a result of The Spectre’s tendency towards brutal forms of justice as well as my tendency to describe the darker side of criminality in Star City, among other things, this story will be rated Explicit, with everything that that entails. The only point where I may falter is if I come to a point where two characters are going to have relations since I admit I have no experience in writing those kinds of scenes. We’ll see what happens when we get to that point. For now, the rating is for extreme language (including potential racial slurs by criminals/evil characters), gratuitous violence and gore, and mature themes.

As far as pairings go, this story will be Oliver Queen/Sara Lance as the endgame pairing. Oliver/Sara is my second-favorite pairing after Lauriver and since I’m burning out on the latter, I decided it was time to indulge in some of the former since it’s been so long. It is going to be a bit of a slow burn (I have ten chapters written and only teases have been made of their possibly forming a relationship), which is different from my Lauriver projects, where I tend to get the couple together ASAP. As far as Laurel is concerned, she is happily married to Tommy on Earth-Prime and has been for eight years, and I wasn’t about to do some stupid triangle the way the _Arrow_ writers might’ve done to drive up the melodrama. 

Now, let’s address something: I am not abandoning my Oliver/Laurel projects. I am simply taking some time to recuperate from having focused on nothing but those for a year, during which I wrote some truly epic stories centered around the pairing. But attacking me because I am writing a different pairing will not result in me switching back to my Lauriver projects. It will, instead, cause me to not write Lauriver projects at all for a much longer time than I currently have planned. A therapist once told me I have something called Oppositional Defiance Disorder or something like that. Basically, if someone demands/tries to force me into doing something, I’ll do the exact opposite just to spite them.

So, if you’re not a fan of Oliver/Sara, just don’t read this story. Your comments trying to force me to do Lauriver will be deleted and never see the light of day, and all you will accomplish in the end is me not working on the third volume of _Arrow: Rebirth_ or the second volume of _Forging A Better Future_. I will not even respond to you or mention you in A/Ns. You will be nothing, just like the Olicity fans who hounded me for years before finally giving up. But hey, if you want to waste your time coming up with huge comments that aren’t going to see the light of day, go right ahead. I’ll happily delete them and then continue writing this story just to spite you.

As far as Oliver’s encounters with other heroes are concerned, I don’t know how the encounters The Spectre has with other heroes go in the comics but considering the majority of the Arrowverse heroes have a holier-than-thou attitude and The Spectre is the goddamned Angel of Justice and/or Vengeance, it’s safe to say that those encounters are going to be tense. I will do my best not to engage in what is colloquially known as ‘bashing’, but please note I don’t consider legitimate criticisms of a character’s less-attractive attributes to be ‘bashing’. To me, ‘bashing’ is where a character’s negative attributes are exaggerated in the extreme or shit is just made up because you fucking hate the character.

As an example of the last bit: Olicity fans portraying Laurel Lance as a gold-digging, sniping bitch. Laurel turned down a high-paying job in San Francisco to work at a legal aid office that serviced the poor who may not be able to pay for their services. If she were after money, she would have taken the SF job. So, I will not be engaging in ‘bashing’ as I understand it, but I cannot say the same for how other people might feel. If you feel I’m bashing a particular character, that is your prerogative, but I’m not going to tag a story with ‘Character Bashing’ when as far as I’m concerned, I’m not engaging in it.

Well, that’s all I can think of for this particular preface. Enjoy the story.


	2. The Spectre

Oliver Queen/The Spectre opened his eyes. He had just been at the beginning of time, fighting the Anti-Monitor before sacrificing his strength to help the Paragons give birth to a new universe. He had done so, and he had destroyed the Anti-Monitor in the process. Barry and Sara had arrived, and the last thing he remembered was them kneeling next to him as weakness flooded his form and the new universe began to unfold above them. Oliver pulled himself into a sitting position before pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. He recognized where he was, of course. Lian Yu. But was this the real Lian Yu, or the Purgatory he had been trapped in after dying from the wounds the Anti-Monitor’s Shadow Demons had inflicted upon him?

“ _This is the real Lian Yu, Spectre,_ ” said a voice, no, The Voice. Somehow Oliver knew that The Voice was the being that people on Earth commonly referred to as ‘God’. He had never put much store in that, especially after his hellish existence the past thirteen years. He hadn’t thought the benevolent God preached about in churches across the country existed; the vengeful one, on the other hand, he could certainly imagine existing. Did The Voice know what he was thinking? “ _Yes, Spectre, and you are not the first of your kind to feel such. It is why you are so suited to the task that you have been given._ ”

Oliver remembered what Jim Corrigan had told him. The Spectre served as The Voice’s Hand in the mortal realm, the embodiment of vengeance (or absolute justice), deployed to Earth to serve as judge, jury, and executioner. Some Spectres became wanderers, never having a home of their own, while others tried to take the role of their former lives and hide their true nature from those they loved. “So, this is the new universe the Paragons created?”

“ _Yes, but much like your original world, it suffers from corruption and injustice,_ ” The Voice replied. “ _It is for this purpose that your life was spared in the Crisis on Infinite Earths. A new Spectre was needed to serve as my Hand in this new universe. You are that being._ ”

“What about those I care about?”

“ _Your world is gone, Spectre,_ ” The Voice said. “ _The Paragons died at the beginning of time, one by one. Their counterparts on this new world have no recollection of the Crisis on Infinite Earths. Many of them, in fact, are just beginning their crusades once more._ ”

“So, Felicity? William? Mia?” Oliver asked.

“ _Gone,_ ” The Voice replied. “ _You avenged them when you killed the Anti-Monitor._ ”

Oliver collapsed to his knees, despair clouding his mind. Everything he had done for The Monitor had been to ensure his family’s survival, and now he was told that it had all been for nothing. He found little solace in knowing he had avenged them. His daughter and son, both young and old versions, were gone. His heart ached at the thought that he would never hold them again, never see their smiles or hear their voices. “Why?” he asked raggedly. “Why spare me and not _them_?” **_*1*_**

“ _I could do nothing for the universes destroyed, Spectre,_ ” The Voice replied. “ _I could barely act when you and the Paragons fought the Anti-Monitor at the beginning of time. It took all of my strength to preserve you. It took me centuries to regain my strength after sending you into the universe you and the Paragons created._ ”

“So, what now?” Oliver finally asked.

“ _Now, you find your place in this new world,_ ” The Voice replied. “ _You have all the knowledge about this world at your disposal, all of your powers are fully recovered. You have the leeway to act as you see fit in matters of justice and judgment. Outside of your duties, your life is your own._ ”

Oliver felt the presence of The Voice depart from him, and he sagged slightly before straightening. Slowly, he opened his mind and looked into the knowledge of this world for those who he cared for and who he had fought alongside.

His parents were both alive in this world, but rather than Thea his sister was named Mia and had a startling resemblance to his own daughter, probably because her parents were Robert and Moira rather than Malcolm and Moira. His father was the Mayor of Star City while his mother was the C.E.O. of Queen Industries, with his sister being groomed to replace her.

The Merlyns were alive and well, all of them. Malcolm continued to serve as C.E.O. of Merlyn Global while Rebecca Merlyn, a well-respected physician, ran an outreach clinic in the Glades and Tommy was being groomed to replace his father, as Malcolm had been diagnosed with a brain tumor.

Tommy was married to Laurel Lance, who served as the incorruptible District Attorney, with her father Quentin serving as the Commissioner. Dinah Lance was a professor of mythology at S.C.U., and Sara Lance was a doctor working at the Merlyn Clinic in the Glades. Laurel was _not_ a vigilante known as Black Canary in this world. Instead, Sara Lance secretly fought against crime in the Glades as a vigilante known as The Canary. Her father hunted her alter ego, leading to a semi-strained relationship between father and daughter as Sara was open in her support of The Canary without revealing it was her beneath the mask.

Barry Allen was currently in a coma at S.T.A.R. Labs, having been struck by lightning. Unlike the previous world, there was no Particle Accelerator explosion but, in this world, it didn’t take dark matter to activate a person’s metagene. Sara Lance possessed a sonic cry akin to those used by Dinah Drake and Earth-2’s Laurel Lance. Speaking of the former, she was known as Tina Boland, her undercover name, on this new world. Oliver mused over this for a moment before dismissing it, continuing to peruse the knowledge of the new Earth. Caitlin Snow was a metahuman supervillain known as Killer Frost, having been captured by Cisco Ramon/Vibe, who was likely the only person who _might_ be able to recognize this was a completely new world, depending on how his powers developed and if they could break through the barrier that was the destruction of the multiverse.

Both Kara Danvers and Clark Kent had emerged onto the scene as their alter egos, Superman having debuted almost fifteen years ago while Supergirl had debuted last year. Despite Lex Luthor’s best attempts at enforcing his will on this new universe, his fate remained the same: a supervillain who had tangled with Superman many times and was currently incarcerated in a maximum-security prison. J’onn J’onzz was currently acting as the Director of the Department of Extranormal Operations under the guise of Hank Henshaw and occasionally came into conflict with Amanda Waller, Director of A.R.G.U.S., as well as General Samuel Lane, who worked with a black-budget organization known only as Project Cadmus. Oliver’s lips thinned as he realized Waller, aka the bitch with the blackened and shriveled heart, was still alive in this new world.

Kate Kane was not acting as a vigilante but was instead still training in remote corners of the world in the hopes of proving herself to her father. Gotham City remained under the custodianship of Bruce Wayne/The Batman. The Dark Knight worked tirelessly against his foes, and Oliver had the sneaking suspicion that Gotham was going to become a problem for him to solve as The Spectre due to Wayne’s unwillingness to kill those who were too far gone in their madness.

Ryan Choi was employed by Ray Palmer at Palmer Technologies and served as Ray’s Head of Research and Development. Ray himself split time between serving as C.E.O. of Palmer Technologies, based in Ivy Town, and serving the city as it’s resident superhero, The Atom.

Curtis Holt was now Michael Holt and the C.E.O. of his own tech mogul company. Rene Ramirez was a hot-headed vigilante known as Wild Dog living and working in Hub City. Roy Harper had ended up in the League of Assassins for a time before coming out of the darkness and now served as the Red Arrow in Opal City. Felicity Smoak, Oliver was startled to find out, was the ageing stepmother of Ronnie Raymond, who served as one half of the superhero Firestorm, the other half being Professor Martin Stein, who once more had no daughter, having dedicated his life to his work. Felicity had never become the head of her own technology company, having served as a secretary to Ronnie’s father most of her life. John Diggle was John Stewart in this new world, and he currently served in the Green Lantern Corps, protecting Earth and the rest of this Sector from galactic threats. Rory Regan was once more Ragman.

Samantha Clayton was alive and well, living in Central City with her son, William, who was Oliver’s biological son in this new world as well. William was now fourteen and beginning to discover his own sexuality, with the support of his mother. **_*2*_**

Oliver reluctantly turned his attention to others he had known under less-pleasant circumstances.

Gulong Shado was alive and well on this Earth, serving as an agent of the Triad, using the skills her father had taught her to support herself in the only way she knew how. She did not have a twin sister on this new world.

Slade Wilson was a ruthless, efficient, and cunning mercenary known as Deathstroke the Terminator, so nicknamed because like the cyborg killer in the franchise of the same name, he couldn’t be bargained with or reasoned with and he would not stop until his mission was completed.

Ra’s al Ghul, in this world, was over 2,000 years old and continued to serve as the grandmaster of the League of Assassins, with both of his daughters at his side. He was locked in his ancient struggle against Damien Darhk and H.I.V.E. Oliver wasn’t happy that a merciless psychopath who found glee in the act of murder was still running free (and he didn’t know which one that particular appellation applied to more, Ra’s or Darhk). Unfortunately, the League of Assassins still served as agents of balance in this new universe, so Oliver could not touch Ra’s unless he proved his advanced age and absolute dominion over the League had corrupted him. Darhk, on the other hand, was the architect of numerous plots over the centuries that had resulted in mass casualties. Oliver would have to keep his eye out for Darhk. Ra’s, meanwhile, seemed intent on making the Batman into his Heir.

While there was an Adrian Chase on this world, his name really _was_ Adrian Chase, and he was not the son of Justin Claybourne. Instead, he was a former Manhattan district attorney that now served as The Vigilante, dealing out a brutal sort of justice on those the system failed to prosecute. Unlike Vince Sobel’s rendition of this particular anti-hero, Chase’s Vigilante did not consider the deaths of innocents to be acceptable casualties and did his best to avoid unnecessary violence, unless he started delving too deeply into his psychosis. He bore watching, Oliver decided.

Ricardo Diaz was a street thug who frequently tangled with The Canary in Star City. Emiko did not exist at all. Instead, Dante led the Ninth Circle.

China White, Daniel Brickwell, Werner Zytle (who was an actual Count and the Uncle to the child empress of Vlatava), and many others were minor criminals spread out across Star City, Central City, National City, Metropolis, and Gotham. The Bertinellis, for example, were a Gotham crime family rather than one in Star City, and Helena was active in Gotham and brushing off Batman’s attempts to steer her away from her destructive course. She had a mutual respect with Batman’s former protégé Barbara Gordon, now called Oracle, as well as a working partnership with Sara whenever she visited Star City. The three of them sometimes worked together as a group called the Birds of Prey. **_*3*_**

Finally, Oliver turned his attention to his own life on this new world.

Ten years ago, he had set sail on the _Queen’s Gambit_ to tour Queen Industries’ holdings in China. Due to Robert Queen’s business practices interfering with Triad operations in Star City, Chien Na Wei, more commonly known as China White, had subverted the bodyguard that Robert had sent along with his son, David Hackett. Hackett had planted a bomb near the engines before proceeding to murder the entire crew. When he moved to confront Oliver, though, Oliver evaded his attacks, having been trained in self-defense after being bullied into it by Laurel, who thought he should know how to defend himself because of his status as a billionaire’s son. She had done the same with Tommy. Hackett and Oliver had engaged in a running battle that ended on the deck of the yacht when the bomb went off, throwing Oliver into the water and Hackett into the railings, knocking him out. Oliver had clambered aboard a piece of floating debris and drifted for days before the _Amazo_ came by.

Like in the last timeline, Dr. Anthony Ivo was in charge of the _Amazo_ and searching for the Mirakuru. Unlike the last time, he was doing so at the behest of H.I.V.E., as the Mirakuru was the result of an experiment of H.I.V.E.’s in World War II to copy the effects of the Lazarus Pits through science. Also unlike the last time, Slade Wilson was a prisoner aboard the _Amazo_. Oliver had formed a friendship with Slade and Anatoli Knyasev, the three of them swiftly becoming leaders amongst the prisoners, who were occasionally pitted against each other to find out who was the strongest so that they could be tapped to be injected with the Mirakuru when it was found. Eventually, the _Amazo_ arrived on Lian Yu and they discovered the submarine containing the Mirakuru. In that time, Oliver, Slade, and Anatoli had all been earmarked to be used as test subjects for the Mirakuru once Ivo had had the chance to experiment with it. After the man had done so (during which he injected his concoctions into the prisoners who hadn’t made the cut, not wanting to waste the lives of those more valuable such as Oliver, Slade, and Anatoli), he began injecting the purified form of the Mirakuru into the subjects and found that there were different side effects for each person.

Oliver received enhanced senses and reflexes. Anatoli was given extreme brute strength, which only lent more credence to his nickname, the KGBeast. Slade, though, was the ultimate success in the eyes of Ivo and his masters at H.I.V.E. Slade received enhanced reflexes and senses, enhanced strength, and regenerative capabilities. Oliver knew that the Mirakuru couldn’t be allowed to give an army to H.I.V.E. and stirred up the inmates aboard the _Amazo_ , killing Ivo and destroying the Mirakuru in the process. He escaped overboard and swam to Lian Yu, where he sought shelter even as the now-liberated _Amazo_ turned away from Lian Yu.

Oliver eventually learned during his second year that there were mercenaries on the island working for a man named Edward Fyers. Like Ivo, Fyers was an agent of H.I.V.E. and Oliver set himself against the mercenaries, engaging in guerilla warfare against them with the help of Gulong Yao Fei, who was imprisoned on Lian Yu by the Chinese government as a patsy. Yao Fei had taught Oliver to survive and further improved his training before being killed by Fyers and his men. Oliver retaliated, destroying the camp and ending H.I.V.E.’s plans for China.

Three years passed with Oliver surviving on what the island gave up each year. Eventually, a new organization moved onto the island. Shadowspire, a Neo-Nazi militia who were searching for a powerful idol that was said to have been left on the island. Baron Reiter, the leader of Shadowspire, had recognized Oliver when he was brought to him after killing one of Shadowspire’s men and offered him a place with them. Oliver had reluctantly accepted, but when the time came to punish the workers for the ‘crime’ of stealing something from Shadowspire (they were farming opiates on the island to supplement their income while they searched for the idol), Oliver couldn’t do it. He had turned against Shadowspire and freed those he could, leading them to the safety of the woods. They had made their home in an ancient monastery on the island and discovered another inhabitant of the island Oliver had not met before. His name was Natas, and he was a former member of the League of Assassins. He trained them as best he could, and then they were set against the Shadowspire troops. At the end of the day, only Oliver survived, though he had been grievously wounded and had suffered with a fever for nearly a week before it subsided with the aid of Natas and the special herbs that Yao Fei had gifted Oliver before his death.

That had been two years ago, and none had come to the island since. Oliver had ‘died’ from starvation and been reborn as he was now, with his memories from the previous universe intact to explain how he had become The Spectre since he had not earned such an honor with his life in this new world. **_*4*_**

So, the question became, what did he do now? Oliver looked down at himself. He was wearing the robes he had worn in the battle against the Anti-Monitor. He twitched his fingers and his clothes shifted and changed into a pair of hiking boots, black jeans, a dark blue button-up shirt, and a brown leather bomber jacket. His appearance changed as well at the expression of a thought, his grimy beard and hair shortening to manageable lengths and becoming clean. Oliver turned from where he had been looking at the island and found himself on the beach of Lian Yu, looking out across the ocean.

In the end, there was really only one choice to make. He had a duty to fulfill, and a new life to discover if he so chose. It would be churlish of him to spurn the chance that he had been given by The Voice. He would be ever watchful, and would act as needed as The Spectre, but in the meantime he would find his place in this new world. He would go to Star City, for now, and see for himself how the city was. He had the information at his fingertips, but there was something visceral about experiencing a city for yourself, something he had tried to impart upon Barry early on in the younger man’s career as The Flash.

Oliver focused and stepped forward once, transporting himself through space and time to an alleyway in downtown Star City. Looking up, he found it was night-time. Good. You only really got to know a city at night when its inhabitants were indulging in their baser instincts. Oliver leaped upward, landing on a rooftop a moment later, and crouched. He opened up his mind and senses, listening to the city, _his_ city, no matter what else had changed. He listened to the cries of pain and misery, the derision in men’s voices as they spoke to their wives or even children, the laughter of roughnecks on the docks as they towered over a cowering group of women, and the steady heartbeat of the lone warrior (so far) against the corruption that choked this new version of Star City: The Canary.

Oliver quashed his first instinct to transport himself to Sara’s location and help her out. He knew that The Canary could handle herself. While she hadn’t been a member of the League of Assassins in this universe, she _had_ sought out training from some of the best hand-to-hand specialists in the world before returning to Star City and taking up duties at the Merlyn Clinic. Oliver instead focused on another crime that he sensed. On another dock, a good two miles from where The Canary was confronting the roughnecks, another shipping container full of women and children waited. These were people who had been sold into this life by their husbands and parents for a bit of extra cash.

Oliver stepped forward once more and found himself on top of a container, the robes he had been wearing as The Spectre reappearing as he resumed his identity as the angel of vengeance. The Spectre glided slowly forward until he stood looking down on the men guarding the container. “ **Human traffickers are amongst the worst mankind has to offer,** ” The Spectre said disgustedly, his reverberating tones startling the guards and causing them to jerk around, weapons raising at the sight of The Spectre. The men needed no encouragement from the man overseeing this operation, John Byrne, and opened fire on The Spectre, who stood there and allowed the bullets to strike him. When their weapons fire failed to bring the interloper down, fear began to curdle in the hearts of the men who had fired.

“ **Your weapons have no effect on one who has already died,** ” The Spectre said emotionlessly and then waved a hand. The weapons the men had been wielding crumbled to dust in their grips, startling them. One man tried to run, and then stopped as The Spectre appeared before him with barely a thought. The Spectre did not waste any time, reaching out and ramming his fist through the man’s chest, gripping his heart, and pulling it out with a spray of gore that somehow managed to not stain his emerald cloak. Flames engulfed both heart and body before The Spectre dropped the heart, and the body fell with it, flames crackling in the air. The Spectre glided forward as a circle of flames shot out from the corpse, surrounding the traffickers and their boss.

Fear and the survival instinct inborn in all humans kicked in and the men rushed The Spectre, hoping to defeat him with overwhelming force. The Spectre drew on his combat training from both universes. A brutal strike to the throat crumpled one man’s windpipe while an uppercut to another man’s chin sent him flying upward before coming back down, his head bent too far backwards for any chance at survival. One of The Spectre’s hands shot forward with a _crunch_ , breaking through the skull of one man to squeeze the brain into a pulpy mass. Withdrawing the hand, covered in blood and oozing gray matter, The Spectre made a gesture at another man. A flash of light shot through the man and he found himself sliding sideways, but only his top half. His body toppled to the ground, entrails trailing out of his body and dragging along in the dirt as the man tried to crawl away from the battle before expiring.

With two men left aside from Byrne, primal fear took over and the two men turned and fled, running directly into the fire, hoping to escape with really bad third-degree burns but still be living. Instead, they were engulfed quickly by the flames and reduced to ash that was scattered by the wind in a matter of seconds. Byrne was the last man standing, and he threw his gun away, falling to his knees and his voice took on a begging quality as he said, “Please, _please_ don’t kill me! I’ll go straight, I swear, I swear! I won’t ever do anything against the law again, you got my word on that!”

“ **You cannot barter your way to freedom with me as you do with human laws,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **John Byrne, you have been judged and found wanting. You stand accused of human trafficking, bribery, murder, extortion, witness intimidation, and torture. You are hereby sentenced, condemned body and soul to the deepest circle of Hell.** ” The Spectre waved a hand, and John Byrne vanished with a scream of agony as dark red flames engulfed him, carrying him to the deepest circle of Hell itself to begin serving out his sentence. **_*5*_**

The Spectre glided forward as the circle of fire dimmed to embers and then to dormant ash, stopping in front of the shipping containers and waving a hand. The containers opened with metal screeching, exposing the frightened women and children who were crouched inside, awaiting the beginning of their horrifying new lives. Instead, they saw a figure in emerald green robes and hood hiding his features, though his irises glowed with power as he observed them. “ **You are safe now,** ” The Spectre told them softly. “ **Your captors will torment you no longer. Go swiftly as you can to the nearest hospital. Those who sold you into this life will not be allowed to do so again. You have my word.** ”

“W-Who are you?” one woman was brave enough to ask.

“ **The embodiment of absolute justice,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **I am The Spectre.** ” He turned and seemed to vanish before their eyes.

The women gathered up the children and hurried away from the docks, searching out the nearest hospital. Within an hour, police were on-site at the dock, learning all they could about the M.O. of this new super-powered vigilante, under the personal direction of Commissioner Quentin Lance. Reports began to come in from across the city of a mysterious figure in hooded green robes who appeared in the homes of those who had sold their wives and children into slavery. Each story was different with each punishment ranging from simple broken necks to the entrails being displayed on the outside of the bodies to nothing but a pulpy mess being left behind. But the conclusion was incontrovertible. There was a new force at work on the streets of Star City, and unlike the heroes that had been popping up since the debut of the Batman twenty years ago, this particular force had no qualms about playing judge, jury, and executioner.

As for the one responsible for all of this? Oliver Queen checked into a hotel, using the cash he had on hand after ending the lives of those who had sold their own flesh and blood into slavery. Eventually, he would have to reveal himself to his family, but for the time being, he could live relatively off the grid. He had no need for food or water, sustained as he was by the power of The Spectre. He knew that when he revealed himself to those he cared about, he would need to pretend to need such sustenance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* Okay, one of the biggest things I hate about Crisis on Infinite Earths (the CW edition) is that they try and hand-wave away the fact that the entire multiverse, including Earth-1, got destroyed and pretend that Felicity, Iris, etc. are the ones that were lost. THEY ARE NOT! THEY WERE DESTROYED ALONG WITH THE REST OF EARTH-1! There is no fallout from this fact, from what I can tell, and it just doesn’t sit well with me. Oliver will occasionally still deal with the result of this thought, even if he considers these new versions to be those he cares about or is coming to care about.
> 
> *2* I hope everyone enjoyed the lives I gave everyone in this new world. Yes, I gained a sort of vindictive pleasure in sentencing Felicity to the life of her comic counterpart. Call me petty if you like.
> 
> *3* Coming up with the fates of the villains was far easier than that of the heroes.
> 
> *4* Spacing out Oliver’s encounters with various people on Lian Yu was far easier than trying to come up with thirteen years’ worth of enemies.
> 
> *5* I hope everyone enjoyed the debut of The Spectre as a force for justice in the new world he and the Paragons created.


	3. The Canary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For those who don’t read my Lauriver stuff, I’ll be alternating between this story and “Dawn of the Golden Age”, so “Dawn” will be posted in the mornings and “Spectre” in the late afternoon/evening. I will also be alternating which story I work on at any given time since I have this story more or less planned out (a new thing for me, planning fics out, but it’s worked out well so far).

Sara Lance placed both hands against the wall of the shower stall and leaned forward into the hot water spraying down on her naked form, the heat from the water soaking into her skin and relaxing her muscles as she wound down from another long night. Half of it was spent at the Merlyn Clinic, the other half of it down at the docks busting a human trafficking ring run by the Russians. Sara’s lips quirked up into a satisfied grin as she remembered the curses that had come from the Russians as she descended into their midst, using her bo staff like an extension of herself and bringing that slaver scum to their knees.

Sara hated the Russian Bratva with a passion, especially the man who had sent these thugs into her city, the Pakhan of the Bratva, Anatoli Knyasev. The KGBeast they called him, because those who failed him suffered ruthless beatings that left the victim shattered. So far, she hadn’t been enough of a nuisance to earn an audience with ‘the Beast’, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She was going after every last one of the Russians operations, from their human smuggling to their drug rings to their identity theft scams. She was going to drive them from the city before they could destroy more lives. She had treated so many people who suffered at their hands while working at the Merlyn Clinic, and she would treat many more before she was done.

Sara took a bar of soap and began running it along her wet skin, scrubbing away the sweat and grime from the docks, which trickled in dirty trails down her arms and torso and down her legs to pour into the drain. Sara took her time, slowly scouring every nook and cranny of her body, all the while soaking in the heat from the water and relaxing more and more from the night’s work. Sara finished cleansing her body of the accumulated filth of the day and took to washing her hair, her nimble fingers scrubbing hard and ensuring the shampoo found every stray hair to be cleansed. After she was satisfied her hair was fully soaped-up, Sara leaned forward under the torrent of water again and scrubbed with her hands, washing away the shampoo which, like the previous filth, washed down her body, tendrils of water pouring from her hair in front of her. **_*1*_**

Sara shut off the shower head and drew back the shower curtain, grabbing the towel hanging beside the shower stall and stepping out onto the rug between the shower stall and the toilet, drying herself off with the towel before wrapping it around her torso. Sara used a secondary towel to dry her hair and wrap it up as she left her en suite bathroom and entered her bedroom, where her pajamas waited. Finishing drying herself, Sara dressed quickly, thinking of the night’s work and amusing herself with the look her father would’ve had if he knew what she did at night, as she often did when she needed a pick-me-up after a bad night. She loved her father, she really did, but his sanctimonious lectures about how they didn’t need to go outside of the law to find justice, a sentiment echoed by her perpetually self-righteous sister who had been given the nickname Iron Rod by her co-workers when she had been a lowly A.D.A., was more than a little frustrating, especially when she was the one who worked in the Glades and saw the desperation and decay the people there lived with every day.

More than once, Sara had felt guilty about the fact that she could return to her cushy downtown apartment every morning to shower and sleep while those people only had places like James Holder’s tenements, which tended to succumb to terrible fires during the wintertime, to live and sleep in. She comforted herself in the fact that she used every spare dime she had to work towards bettering the lives of people in the Glades, as well as the martial skills she had learned over the years from every hand-to-hand combat master she could contact. She had even apprenticed under Gotham’s Batman for about six months, soaking up his lessons like a sponge, though she didn’t subscribe to his brand of paranoia. She hadn’t found out his identity, but perhaps that was just as well; from what Barbara told her, those who knew his identity were treated like chess pieces by the man. Sara felt sorry for her wheelchair-bound friend.

Dressed in her pajamas, Sara climbed into bed and turned off the bedside lamp, eyes beginning to feel heavy as her head hit the pillow. As with every day, she would sleep most of it away and report for duty at the Merlyn Clinic in the evening for her shift and then leave around midnight to begin her work as The Canary. Some nights she just patrolled the Glades, dealing with gangbangers out to rape women caught unawares, and other nights it was more targeted, like her work against the Russians.

Slowly, Sara drifted off to sleep, grimacing slightly as she recalled she was expected to attend dinner at the Queen Mansion with the rest of her family and the Merlyns. Ever since Oliver had died at sea, going to the Queen Mansion had become torture, though the pain had begun to lessen after five years of no news.

**_*DC*_ **

Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously as the owner’s brilliant mind absorbed the intelligence coming out of Star City. A new and brutal force had appeared on the scene and decimated a crew of human traffickers led by a man named John Byrne. Byrne himself was M.I.A., but he would turn up eventually. Scum like that always did. No, the concern was that there was a new player on the board, one that didn’t play by the established rules that Bruce Wayne, the owner of those suspicious blue eyes, and Clark Kent had set down for themselves and all those who followed after them. The only other player that seemed to have a problem playing by the rules was The Vigilante in New York.

Worse, this new player had hunted down everyone who had presumably sold their loved ones to the traffickers run by Byrne and killed them and had done so far too quickly for a normal human, which meant either this was a new metahuman awakening to their powers and letting the power go to their head, or an alien. He would inform Superman of this development and keep an eye on it, but Star City was The Canary’s turf at the end of the day, and it would be down to her to rein in this new player, assuming she didn’t end up rendering this being aid in some fashion due to her own… tendencies.

Wayne prepared a file on the new player, citing all the pertinent details, and then closed down for the morning. Despite what his apprentices believed he _did_ occasionally need to sleep. He never knew when The Joker, a frequent patient of Arkham Asylum named Jeremiah Valeska, would escape and bring about a new rash of attacks. **_*2*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Bruce Wayne was not the only one up early going over the disturbing news coming out of Star City. Clark Kent, one of the _Daily Planet_ ’s top two investigative reporters, was sitting at the kitchen counter in the apartment he shared with his fiancé, Lois Lane, a laptop open in front of him and an article from _The Star_ , Star City’s premier newspaper, in the browser. He read it thoroughly, memorizing every detail he could. The damage done to the bodies was consistent with a super-powered individual, either metahuman or alien, and they had the training to make themselves truly dangerous to society.

Clark was tense after reading everything that _The Star_ had to report on the new player, including the statement from Commissioner Quentin Lance that he would be putting the task force already assigned to hunt The Canary to hunt this new player as well and end his carnage before he could get started. Clark wished the Commissioner the best of luck, but he suspected that before long he would be called in to help stop this new vigilante. Slim arms slid under his own and wrapped themselves around his torso. He breathed in the scent that was distinctly Lois and felt himself relax a fraction; an affect that simply being in Lois’ presence had on him. “Morning,” he murmured, turning his head to the side, and catching Lois’ lips in a quick, chaste kiss.

Lois returned the kiss before pulling away with a small grin. “Morning, yourself,” she said. “Now what’s got you imitating your half-gargoyle friend?”

“News from Star City,” Clark replied. “You know we like to keep an eye on cities where others are fighting against crime. There was a showdown at the docks in Star City last night. Two, in fact. The Canary was ruffling the Russians’ feathers again, you know how she is about those thugs.” Lois hummed in agreement with both Clark’s statement and The Canary’s actions. They had met a couple of times and Lois appreciated the passion that The Canary brought to the table. The fact that she was the youngest daughter of the Police Commissioner in Star City just tickled Lois’ funny bone as it reminded her of the issues that lay between her and her alien-hating father. “But there was a showdown with another group of traffickers by some unknown, but whoever it is, they’re powerful and have more than one ability.” He worried his lower lip. “They might even be Kryptonian,” he added quietly. Lois gave him a gentle squeeze, knowing how hard Clark took it when he had to go up against another of his own people. With so few Kryptonians left in the universe, the death of each one was like a physical blow to her fiancé.

“Well, whoever they are,” Lois began, “I know that you’ll find them and bring them around to seeing things your way. You have a way with people as Superman.”

“Not as good as Kara,” Clark tried.

“Kara flies around wearing a skirt,” Lois replied. “Of course, people like her. Women like her for the _power_ she gives them, and men like her for the _fantasies_ she gives them.” Clark glowered at the reminder. He had had to give James Olsen a stern lecture about Kara before the man moved to National City last year, namely that he didn’t want his cousin, who had just made her debut as Supergirl, to be turned into a sex symbol by James’ photography skills. “But you are just as good at reaching people when you need to, Clark. It’s a gift you and Kara share because you’re both the embodiment of hope.” **_*3*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver Queen, using his powers to put himself out of phase with the world and thus render himself invisible and intangible, entered the District Attorney’s office, moving through it and allowing others to pass through him as he made his way to the office where Laurel Merlyn was going over her current case files. He wasn’t here to get an idea of the degree of corruption at hand in the D.A.’s office, though he would certainly do so once he had done what he initially came here to do. No, he just wanted to see Laurel in her element as District Attorney, something he wished he could have seen instead of having that _pretender_ act like the Laurel Lance that he had known.

Inside the office, Laurel was wearing a black pantsuit and dark gray blouse, her hair pulled up into a business-like bun, with one errant lock trailing down the right side of her head, brushing against her cheek. Oliver stood there, watching the woman who was trained to be a lawyer serving in the top job for lawyers in Star City (outside of the go-to law firms for families like his, at any rate), and felt… nothing. For a moment, Oliver’s brow furrowed as he considered this unusual phenomenon before he realized what the problem was.

This woman may have the training, looks, temperament, and compassion that the Laurel Lance he knew had had, but at the end of the day, Laurel _Merlyn_ was a woman that he had never known. He had no history with this woman. His Laurel had died in a hospital bed after complications from the surgery that he had believed saved her life, and nothing could change that fact.

This realization hit Oliver with a sobering fact that, despite all the differences to this world from the one he had known, he had been trying to ignore. This was _not_ his world. These weren’t his friends, his family, his comrades-in-arms. Oliver looked down as the roar of grief began to fill his mind, and he turned, transporting himself back to Lian Yu, where he unleashed a primal scream of grief, anguish, and misery that uprooted every tree in a fifty-foot radius as his powers went haywire. Oliver collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he thought of each person in his life.

Felicity Smoak, the woman who had become his wife. She had gone from being a woman he gave the shittiest excuses to, to the woman that stood by his side when times seemed darkest and had given him a little girl that he had loved with all his heart and sacrificed _everything_ he had believed in in order to build a better future for her, a sacrifice that had been for nothing in the end.

Mia, his little Mia, both the chubby little baby he had rocked to sleep night after night in the cabin where he had hidden his family away from the darkness at work in the world and the fierce young warrior from 2040 who he had slowly broken down the walls of, who had sobbed out the word, “Dad,” when he lay dying in the Bunker after his showdown with the Anti-Monitor’s Shadow Demons.

William, his only son, both the fourteen-year-old struggling with his sexual identity while away at boarding school and the comfortable in his own skin genius C.E.O. of his own technology company.

His parents, Robert and Moira Queen, who had both sacrificed their lives for him and his sister. Robert had given him a reason to live, to survive the hell he was sentenced to by the machinations of Malcolm Merlyn and, to a lesser extent, Emiko Adachi, his own half-sister, who had let Merlyn destroy the _Queen’s Gambit_ out of rage at not being accepted as a Queen by their father.

His sister, Thea. His little Speedy, who had chased after him with pigtails streaming behind her as her legs pumped as she strived to catch up to Tommy and he who would stop or slow down and encourage her with a, “Come on, Speedy!” She didn’t even _exist_ in this world because she had been conceived in a moment of grief between Malcolm and Moira following Rebecca’s funeral, an event that had never happened in this new world as Rebecca Merlyn was alive.

Tommy Merlyn, his best friend, and brother in all but blood, the half-brother of his non-existent baby sister and the man who had inspired him to be a better man in the previous universe. The man who had sacrificed himself to save the woman that they both loved, the woman that this world’s Tommy had plucked up the courage to ask her to marry him.

Laurel Lance, the woman he had loved for over half of his life, who he had pushed away in an effort to protect, and whom he had utterly failed to protect in the end as she pursued a life of vigilantism, inspired by both her own sister and himself.

Quentin Lance, the man who had become a father figure to him over the years, even more so than his own father, and died to save the dimensional doppelganger of his deceased eldest.

Sara Lance, another woman who he had loved, the one woman who could match him scar for scar, hellish experience for hellish experience, a vigilante and leader in her own right. She had died with the others at the beginning of time, after they had fought and won against the Anti-Monitor.

Ray Palmer, a man who had once hunted him, believing him guilty of heinous crimes, but who had grown to have a grudging respect for him and who had, when pressured by Felicity, chosen the city over Oliver’s life, as it should have been, and a founding member of Sara’s team of outcasts who struggled to keep the timeline intact.

Barry Allen, his brother-in-arms against crime and corruption, who had come to him for advice when everyone else had scorned his desire to help bring down those metahumans who used their powers to commit crimes and do evil. Another who had been lost at the beginning of time.

Kara Danvers, a woman from another planet (and indeed, another universe!) that he had had an initially contentious relationship with, but whom he had grown to respect and consider to be a close friend, as like he, Barry, and Sara, she was the one people looked to for guidance in her life, guidance and inspiration.

John Diggle, his first brother-in-arms against the crime and corruption poisoning Star City, a man who had pushed him to look outside of The List for ways to help alleviate the suffering of the people, a man who had both supported him and argued against him with a fierce stance on where he stood, a man who had grieved at not being there for him when he needed him during the Crisis.

There were others, but these were the losses that he mourned the most, and as he unleashed his grief and anguish, dark storm clouds gathered over Lian Yu and thunder rumbled, his powers still going haywire and causing weather anomalies over Lian Yu and elsewhere. Rain hammered down from the skies in a powerful and unrelenting torrent before subsiding as Oliver’s grief ran its course and he transported himself back to his motel room, collapsing on the bed as he returned to the same phase as the rest of the world. Even though he didn’t need sleep, he closed his eyes, guarding against further reminders that this world was not the one he had left behind. **_*4*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Sara Lance had dressed down for dinner at the Queen Mansion, as she normally did. Clad in black jeans, a dark t-shirt, and her favored black leather jacket, Sara pulled her motorcycle up to where the other guests’ vehicles were parked and cut the engine, swinging one leg over the motorcycle and kicking the stand down to support the weight of the bike. Sara pulled her black helmet from her head, shaking her head slightly to straighten out her blonde hair. Sara hung her helmet from the left handlebar and headed towards the mansion at a leisurely walk, smiling slightly as nostalgia caught her in its grip, as it often did when she visited the Queen Mansion. For a long time, it had been painful to come here, where memories of Oliver, whom she had had deep feelings for, were so prevalent. But time heals all wounds, as they say, and now she could look back on those times with as much fondness as regret.

Sara entered the mansion and made her way through the entrance hall to the dining room, where her family and the Merlyns had already joined the Queens. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, truly apologetic. “I forgot to set my alarm clock. Had a bit of a late night, last night, after I finished up at the clinic.”

“You seem to have an awful lot of ‘late nights’, Sara,” Rebecca Merlyn observed. “What’s his name? Or is it her name?” Sara had discovered she was bisexual in college and had had a few relationships with men and women over the years, though nothing had stuck. She always seemed to end up comparing the men to Oliver in terms of personality and looks, and many of the women were too clingy for her tastes, needing reassurance about their relationship via text or phone calls that she just couldn’t give them because she needed to hold everyone at arm’s length.

“I’m not seeing anybody regularly,” Sara said. “Keeping my options open.”

“You’re thirty-one, Sara, that biological clock is ticking,” said Laurel, who was sipping a glass of champagne with one hand and holding Tommy’s hand with the other.

“Not all of us find our soulmate before we’re thirty, Laurel,” Sara said mildly, ignoring the sting that Laurel’s words caused. Laurel and Tommy had gotten together three years after the _Queen’s Gambit_ sank and married each other after a two-year courtship. Ever since, they’d been held up as the golden standard between the three families for Mia and Sara to follow. Mia was more focused on her career at the moment, but she was also only twenty-four, so the pressure wasn’t as focused on her as it was on Sara. “When I find the right guy, or girl, I’ll be sure to let everyone know. But until then, butt out.” Laurel gave an offended sniff at her younger sister’s tendency towards coarser speech, but other than that, nothing was said.

“So, Quentin,” Malcolm said in an effort to change the topic, “I heard there was some rather bad business down at the docks.”

“The Canary?” Sara queried, wondering how what she had done at the docks last night could be considered ‘bad business’.

“Yeah, we did,” Quentin answered Malcolm before turning towards his youngest. “And no, Sara, it wasn’t The Canary. She was busy busting the Russians’ heads on another dock. The only similarity is that the targets were human traffickers. It ends there.” Quentin turned his attention back to the table at large. “I don’t want to spoil anyone’s appetite, so I won’t describe what went down, or at least what we’ve managed to piece together. Suffice to say, it was pretty gory, and everything we _do_ know about the person who did it says either alien or metahuman. According to the witnesses, the people this guy rescued, it was some guy in a hooded green robe who called himself The Spectre and used one of those damned voice modulators to disguise his voice.” Quentin sighed. “Honestly, all the evidence really points to a rogue Kryptonian, and I’m hoping they were just passing through on their way to get into a pissing match with Superman.”

“Quentin, language!” Dinah said sternly. “Honestly, and you wonder where Sara gets it.” Dinah turned and gave her youngest a sly wink, earning a grin from the younger woman in return. Laurel noticed this and refrained from rolling her eyes. Her mother and sister were very similar. They both romanticized things that shouldn’t be romanticized, both were very individualistic, and they had a tendency towards flightiness that caused problems in her parents’ marriage, though it had lessened now that their daughters were grown and in their own careers. “You said this new vigilante calls himself The Spectre?” Dinah asked her husband.

“Yeah, probably cuz it sounds spooky and mysterious,” Quentin grumbled. He gave his wife a look. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s just something I read when I was studying for my dissertation to receive my doctorate is all,” Dinah said softly. “It was an old myth about a being that was said to be the embodiment of justice, an angel if you will, tasked with meting out justice where human laws fail, assigned to do so by God Himself. It’s a complete myth of course and is just one myth among many about beings who embody justice, or vengeance if you prefer, down through the ages. But you’re probably right about this person, Quentin. He probably just thinks it sounds appropriately spooky and mysterious.”

Silence fell around the dinner table as they contemplated Dinah’s contribution to the discussion. It was unnerving, at least in some of their minds, that this new vigilante might share a connection to an ancient myth about the embodiment of justice or vengeance. In ancient times, justice tended to be absolute and often conflated with vengeance (an eye for an eye and all of that), and from what little Quentin had told them, it was obvious that this ‘Spectre’ practiced that brand of justice and probably didn’t believe in the fine details of the law as it stood, many of which helped those in the Queens and Merlyns’ income bracket maintain their wealth and power. They shared Quentin’s hope that this ‘Spectre’ was just passing through Star City.

Sara kept her own counsel and would do so even with the other heroes in the world. She knew that Batman and Superman would both be keeping an eye on the situation if The Spectre continued to operate in Star City and expect her to keep them informed of the situation with on-the-ground details. She decided she would get what information she could about The Spectre before making any sort of decisions. A small part of her also wondered, however minutely, if the legend her mother had told them about had any basis in reality, and if so, was this _The Spectre_ , or just someone borrowing the title of the legend to impose fear and strike terror in the hearts of the criminal and corrupt? **_*5*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Regarding Laurel’s attitude: while this Laurel has many of the same traits of Earth-1 Laurel, she has also been in a committed relationship with Tommy Merlyn for a decade, eight years of which she has been his wife. As such, she has been a part of high society and become a more refined woman, making her slightly judgmental of her less-refined younger sister. Also, much as I like E-1 Laurel, it is an established fact that Katie Cassidy prefers to play snarky types. E-1 Laurel was more the anomaly in Cassidy’s career than the norm.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* This scene came about because I wanted to experiment with being more descriptive of certain things than I normally am to take advantage of the rating. I admit, the shower scene is probably cuz I’m a hot-blooded male who finds Caity Lotz insanely attractive. Also, I hope people enjoyed the set-up for stuff between Sara and the Bratva.
> 
> *2* Yes, I’m aware that in “Batwoman” the name of The Joker was revealed as Jack Napier. But the great thing about a complete universe reboot is that the world doesn’t have to be exactly the same, and I happen to enjoy the portrayal on “Gotham” (both Jerome and Jeremiah). Whereas we have not and probably never will see a sign of Jack Napier’s Joker in “Batwoman”. Ergo, Valeska is The Joker in my stories.
> 
> *3* A gentle reminder that in this universe, Kara has only been out as Supergirl for a year. Also, as mentioned above, I happen to be a hot-blooded male and prefer the skirted version of Kara’s suit. As to Lois mentioning both Superman and Supergirl are the embodiment of hope, that’s just me giving a nod to the fact that Superman has been at this longer and so technically, he should’ve been the Paragon of Hope. But since he didn’t have a show with his name on it at the time…
> 
> *4* I needed Oliver to have a moment where it really hit him that everything and everyone that he knew is gone. He hasn’t quite accepted it yet, but now he’s on the road towards that, and in the meantime, he has evildoers to rain down justice on.
> 
> *5* I hope everyone enjoyed the dinner scene. Writing this sort of thing from a new perspective (Sara instead of Oliver) was actually really fun because I had to come up with all-new responses since this Sara has a very different outlook on life than the Sara we know from canon. I also wanted to give Dinah something more to do than be the flighty, absentee mother that she was in canon, so making her a professor of mythology (which I honestly think she was in canon too) and having knowledge of The Spectre, even if it’s through myth and legend, was a good start. Of course, her knowledge may in fact come from *other* sources (which anyone who read this story before knows what I mean).


	4. Ruminations

Oliver Queen sat down in the back booth of the bar, using his powers to obscure the senses of those around him and make them think that this booth didn’t exist. Oliver knew that the energy he had expended during his battle with the Anti-Monitor was the exception rather than the rule, but even so he was using his powers sparingly while observing what he considered to be potential hotbeds for trouble or locations where he could gather information, usually restricting himself to being out of phase or, like now, making people think the place where he was seated didn’t exist. Oliver knew he was toeing the line between the hero he had been and the force of nature that he had become, still hoping to hold onto some vestige of his humanity. But without anyone or anything to connect him to this world, it was rather difficult to do that.

Was he even supposed to try to hold onto his humanity, or was he meant to surrender it and embody justice as The Spectre? And was he to intervene in any situation, or just special ones? Jim Corrigan had made it seem like he himself used his powers to intervene in those cases that he investigated as a detective that were most dire but did use his powers subtly in less dire cases. But he knew that intervening and righting every wrong could never truly happen. There was too much evil in the world for him to be there in time for every act, whether it was that of a man beating his wife or a despot ordering the deaths of hundreds. That, he felt, was the curse of having the power of The Spectre. For all the power he had, he wasn’t omniscient, not unless he opened himself up fully and abandoned his humanity. And despite his uncertainty over that, Oliver felt that he couldn’t simply abandon his humanity after all the years it took to get it back after those five hellish years turned him into a monster.

“ _You were never a monster, Spectre,_ ” The Voice whispered softly, its presence closing around him in a manner that he would deem almost comforting. “ _You were a man who was broken and remade by those with machinations of their own. Despite everything you did, you remained the man that Laurel Lance saw within you, a good man who wished to help those who suffered._ ”

“Yet I tortured that man in Russia, skinned him alive,” Oliver murmured, not afraid of being overheard as all senses were being blocked regarding where he sat: sight, hearing, smell, touch… all of it.

“ _The man you refer to was party to the trafficking of humans, drug running, arms smuggling, murder, extortion, bribery, intimidation, torture, rape, and the brutal abuse of men, women, and children,_ ” The Voice rebuked. “ _He was no innocent. You have let the judgment of those who never understood you to cloud your remembrance of your past, Spectre. You have always been the embodiment of justice; you were always_ destined _for this role. Do you feel guilt for what you did to John Byrne and those working for him?_ ”

“No,” Oliver said softly.

“ _Then banish this unnecessary guilt you feel at punishing those who served wicked purposes in your past life,_ ” The Voice ordered. “ _You are The Spectre, the angel of justice, tasked with meting out justice where heroes and human laws fail._ ”

“I’m The Spectre, I’ve accepted that,” Oliver whispered. “But is there room for me to be Oliver Queen as well?”

“ _Jim Corrigan already answered that question for you, as have I,_ ” The Voice replied. “ _Corrigan lived his life normally while serving as The Spectre when needed. So, too, can you do so. Your initial mission as The Spectre has left you uncertain because you did not expect to survive your battle with the Anti-Monitor. As I told you before, Spectre, outside of the fulfillment of your duties, your life is your own._ ”

The Voice’s comforting presence faded, and Oliver slumped in the booth as it did so. After a moment of contemplation, Oliver collapsed the protections around his booth and exited it, leaving the bar with his hands tucked into his brown leather bomber jacket. He stepped out into the cloudy afternoon, a light drizzle of rain pouring down on the street. Oliver turned to the right and joined the throng of people moving along the sidewalk in both directions, one face among the many, as he considered what it meant to truly be free of the machinations that had ruled his life for so long. **_*1*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Sara Lance tucked an errant lock of blonde hair back behind her ear as she examined the chart for the patient she was about to see, a chart that made her heart ache. A seventeen-year-old girl found raped and beaten in an alley, brought here by a Good Samaritan who didn’t stick around to get identified. Sara opened the curtain and stepped through, blue eyes taking in the girl’s appearance. She was dressed in a hospital gown and despite the warmed blanket that had been provided was shivering in a combination of the sense of cold that came with being in shock and fear that her attackers would find her here.

“Andrea, I’m Dr. Lance,” Sara said softly, placing a hand on the girl’s slim shoulder, and frowned when she felt the girl flinch beneath her touch. “You can call me Sara if you want, okay?” Andrea slowly nodded, dark brown hair falling down into her eyes. She reached up and brushed her hair back, exposing a black bruise on her temple from where she had been struck. Sara contained her rage at the sight of the bruise on the girl’s otherwise flawless alabaster skin, knowing that there were probably many more bruises where that one came from, and she would have to catalogue them all for the treatment file, even if the only thing that could be done with bruises was to let them heal naturally. Sadly, bruise remover salve like what existed in _Harry Potter_ just didn’t exist in the real world, despite aliens and magic being a real thing.

Sara took her time with Andrea, knowing from personal experience (an incident during her first year away at college) that talking about this kind of thing wasn’t easy, even when you felt comfortable. Sara still hadn’t told her parents or sister about her experience, instead having reached out for help from a therapist specializing in trauma, Dr. Ann Green. With Dr. Green’s help, Sara had turned her life around and become a doctor, specializing in E.R. treatments since those first few hours after a traumatizing incident were critical and was where she could do the most good, and pay her good fortune with Dr. Green forward. **_*2*_**

By the time the girl settled back on the hospital bed with a relaxed expression on her face, closing her eyes to sleep, Sara felt emotionally drained, as she always did when helping a fellow survivor of sexual assault come to terms with their trauma. She still attended meetings when it got to be too much, sharing her story, and encouraging others to look for the light in their lives, and she would encourage Andrea to attend a meeting with her at least once, to see if it helped. Sara moved on to the next room on her list, this one being a patient who had been here for a couple of days, a young boy named Jesse. His parents had been abusing him and he had risked their wrath to come here, and with Sara talking to her father, swift justice had come to the man and woman who had abused the boy. He was still healing, but a social worker visited daily according to Rebecca, making sure he was receiving all the care he needed and keeping an eye on the situation so that she knew when to make room in a foster home for the poor boy.

Sara had worked mostly E.R.’s while traveling and learning under different hand-to-hand masters but working here at the Merlyn Clinic for the past couple of years had become rather rewarding in ways that her E.R. work just hadn’t been. Maybe it was because she maintained contact with her patients after their initial admittance, even if it were under emergency circumstances, because most of those who came to the Merlyn Clinic in the middle of the night were emergency cases who couldn’t get to Star City General, or maybe it was just because she was helping those who wouldn’t otherwise receive care. In the end, the only thing that mattered was that she was helping her patients not only as their doctor but ensuring nothing like what happened to them could happen again as The Canary.

Which reminded her, she still needed to look into what it was The Spectre had done at the docks the other night. She had gotten caught up in her work and forgotten to look into it. Maybe if she had a moment to herself on her shift, she could look into it. If not, she could always spend the night researching the newcomer since she knew Batman and Superman would be wanting intel from her at some point. She wasn’t sure she would feel the same way that they did about this newcomer simply because she knew she came close to crossing the ‘line’ that Batman and Superman had drawn for those who rose after them, having received a warning once from Batman about her ruthless actions with a pair of pimps in the Glades who had been beating one of the prostitutes they were running.

Sara had given those pimps a taste of their own medicine and gotten a self-righteous lecture about it, then had to endure one of her sister’s self-righteous rants about The Canary making it harder to prosecute men like that. As far as Sara was concerned, if Laurel’s office did their damn job in the first place, she wouldn’t need to be giving the Russians and pimps and whoever else a solid beating. Also, she found it hilariously hypocritical that Batman lectured her on beating down those bastards when he routinely broke people’s bones in his own beatdowns.

She would find out what she could about The Spectre and attempt to find a way to meet whoever it was, so she could try and gauge their actions for herself instead of second-hand through the cops or the press. It was the least she could do for someone who was trying to do the same thing she was, cleanse the city of those who did evil. The only difference was that The Spectre appeared to take direct action whereas she left it to the cops to handle for the most part. She’d only taken extreme action once in her career, and she hadn’t done so lightly.

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver crouched atop a building in the Glades, staring down into the warehouse below him, using his powers to mimic the Kryptonians’ ability of X-Ray Vision to observe the goings-on in the warehouse. This was one of the warehouses where the Triad packaged their drugs for sale, most of the workers being forced to do this work by the Triad, who controlled their very lives and wielded near-absolute power (at least as far as the average citizen believed). But tonight, the Triad would learn the true measure of power at work in the universe, and their poison would burn to ash, ending this particular operation. Oliver stood, the green robes of The Spectre wreathing themselves around him, and he glided away from the edge of the rooftop and descended towards the warehouse.

He waved one hand in the direction of the wall of the warehouse that he was approaching, disintegrating it and gliding through the new opening. The Triad’s enforcers shouted in Chinese for the workers to get down (they didn’t like wasting what was essentially their slave labor) while raising their weapons and firing on The Spectre as he slowly glided to the ground. The bullets from their weapons tore into Oliver but had no effect, his clothing regenerating almost as soon as the bullets tore into him. His glowing aquamarine eyes watched the Triad enforcers disdainfully as their guns started clicking, indicating the clips they had unloaded into him were empty. A simple gesture from him saw the guns turn into metal dust that spilled through their hands.

“ **You poison the people of this city with your drugs,** ” The Spectre said. “ **As you poison this city, so shall you be poisoned.** ” The Spectre snapped his fingers, and the Triad enforcers instantly began to convulse as the blood in their veins transmuted into a most virulent poison. As the enforcers collapsed to the ground, mouths frothing with foam and blood trailing from their nostrils and eyes, The Spectre turned his attention to the workers. “ **Go. You are free.** ” The workers needed no such encouragement and fled the warehouse. The Spectre turned his attention to the tables piled high with drugs and made a sweeping gesture with his right hand, fingers outstretched. The drugs were quickly consumed by brilliant emerald green flames, and The Spectre glided back up to where he had observed the warehouse and stepped back onto the rooftop, his robes fading back into his civilian clothing as he began walking across the roof towards the access stairwell.

**_*DC*_ **

Sara had called in a favor owed to her by a cop to get her hands on the full report on The Spectre’s actions at the docks. Reading through the report was like reading a sci-fi or fantasy novel. According to the report, most of the men had been trapped by a circle of flames that seemed to have originated from a charred body that had had its heart removed with extreme force, as though The Spectre had punched his way through the breastbone and ripped it out with his bare hands. Most of the bodies showed signs of extreme brute strength in the killing blows they received, from crushed windpipes to heads being snapped back to brains being ripped from the skull of the victim. Then there was the guy who had been cut in half somehow. Not ripped in half, but _cut_ in half, which meant that this _couldn’t_ be a rogue Kryptonian, all of which were about their brute strength. Whoever The Spectre was, he had a brutal sense of justice but had a finesse to his methods as well.

The one thing that concerned Sara, though, was that John Byrne had not been found at all. There had been no sign of him where he should have gone to ground, and no one had heard a peep about him trying to leave the city before The Spectre could finish the job. Sara was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, her mother’s story from Sunday dinner was true and this was _The Spectre_ ; if so, then Byrne was probably already dead, and most likely had been since that night on the docks. _If_ this was The Spectre from her mother’s legend. Sara decided she would go see her mother tomorrow and get more information about The Spectre, if only so she could pass it on to Batman and Superman. Well, Superman, anyways. Superman would then forward the information to Batman. The Bat’s paranoia knew no bounds.

**_*DC*_ **

Mist covered the grounds of the Queen Mansion, giving refuge to the lone figure who made his way through the grounds to the memorial headstone with his name engraved upon it. Oliver Queen looked at the headstone, thinking that it was a sick sort of irony that he technically had died in both this universe and the last, and yet here he stood over his headstone yet again. Was it fair to this world’s Queen family that he reveal himself? He was not the boy they had lost, regardless of which life he subscribed to. He was the embodiment of justice, and in some ways, that might not be the best thing to be around his family and the others, especially if he found they were doing something that caused suffering to others. The scary thought that occurred to him was that unlike those he had known, he _could_ punish the people in his life on this new Earth-Prime because he didn’t _know_ them.

Oliver sighed, hands digging into the pockets of his brown leather bomber jacket. “This would be so much easier if I had someone to connect _to_ ,” he murmured to himself. “But how can I connect to anyone when I don’t have the emotions connected to the memories? It’s like someone downloaded them into my brain, which is probably true. I still feel more connection to the Sara I lost than the one who is on this new world.” A thought began to percolate in his mind. He knew that, as the Spectre, he had power over souls and their fates. Did that mean he could potentially restore the Sara Lance he knew in this new world? Or Barry? Or Kara? Or any of the other people he had known?

“ _This is a dangerous path your thoughts are taking, Spectre,_ ” The Voice said as he felt its presence surround him, though this time that presence was troubled and had a feeling of warning to it. “ _While it is true that you could bring those you fought alongside back, you would destroy who they are in the here and now. As The Spectre, you have the ability to see alternate timelines, to manage having two sets of memories. But the normal human mind is incapable of it, even for those who stood as Paragons against the Anti-Monitor. You would overwrite them, leaving them adrift in a new world. Is that truly a fate that you would wish upon them, in addition to pulling them from their final rest with the memories of their own deaths fresh in their minds?_ ”

“No,” Oliver said softly after a moment. “But what about-”

“ _You_ do _have the emotional connections to the memories, Spectre,_ ” The Voice told him in rebuke. “ _But you refuse to accept them, clinging to the vestiges of your former life. This is your life now, Oliver Queen. If you do not accept it, then you_ should _relinquish your humanity_.” The Voice’s presence faded, and Oliver felt stung by the strong rebuke The Voice had issues, both for his dangerous thoughts about bringing Sara or Barry back and for his inability to accept who he was in this world. Oliver hadn’t realized that his clinging to his past was keeping him from feeling the emotional connections to the memories of the new Earth and his new life here. Oliver realized that he was afraid; afraid that he would stop being the man he had always been, afraid that he would forget those he had loved and lost, afraid of what it meant to accept his new life in this new world. Most of all, he was afraid of the memories of pain and agony regarding his slow death on the island in this new world.

Oliver turned and with a thought returned to his motel room, where he laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. It was time to let go and embrace his new life.

**_*DC*_ **

Sara poked her head into her mother’s office at Starling University. “Hey, Mom, got a sec?” she asked, spotting her mother sitting behind her desk.

“I always have time for my children, Sara,” Dinah said warmly, setting aside the stack of papers that she had been grading and gesturing to the seats in front of her desk. Sara took one, amusedly remembering all the times she and Laurel had been hauled to the headmaster’s office for indecent behavior unbecoming of a representative of Berlanti Preparatory. Sara had privately wondered what it was the headmaster thought cheerleaders did besides waving pom-poms and practicing their cheers. It was an established reality in any high school pecking order that cheerleaders could be insatiable flirts, and Sara had been the one to really challenge her father’s temperament on that front until she started looking to Oliver more seriously, at least until Laurel sabotaged her plans and got her grounded only to snatch Oliver up for herself; not that Sara was bitter… Okay, maybe she was a _little_ bitter. “What brings you by?” Dinah asked her youngest daughter. **_*3*_**

“I was curious about what you said at dinner Sunday night, about The Spectre and the mythology surrounding the name,” Sara said quietly. “It was interesting, and I was hoping you could tell me more.”

“Trying to decide if you want to support this new vigilante like you support The Canary?” Dinah asked with a raised eyebrow. “Are you _trying_ to give your father heart problems by supporting everyone that threatens what he sees as the stability of Star City?”

“Star City is being choked to death by crime and greed, and Dad is too blind to see it because his friendship with Robert is the only reason that he’s the new commissioner,” Sara said heatedly. “Maybe if he were still down in the trenches instead of schmoozing it up with muckety-mucks like the Queens and Merlyns, he’d remember the oath he swore as a cop, to protect and serve. Who is he protecting and serving as commissioner? Certainly not the people in the Glades!” Sara closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. She opened her eyes again to see her mother looking at her strangely, as though she had never truly seen Sara before. “Sorry. It’s just… I work in the Glades and I see the suffering in a different way than even Rebecca does. It makes me sick to know that they can’t get help when they need it because of the budget cuts that Robert Queen has introduced as mayor.”

Dinah was silent for a moment longer as she observed her younger daughter. “I can’t believe that I didn’t see it before,” she mused. “Or perhaps I didn’t want to; I wanted to think that you and your sister were safe from what drove me in my youth, especially with the both of you getting good, down-to-Earth jobs.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?” Sara asked confusedly.

Dinah leaned back in her chair. “There was a time, before I met your father when I was living in Gotham, that I wanted nothing more than to help the people who were suffering at the hands of others,” Dinah said. “I was hot-headed and brash, and I thrust myself into danger by infiltrating prostitution rings and finding out the key players before beating them to a pulp and striking fear in the hearts of those who preyed on women. I called myself the Black Canary, and I was a member of the Justice Society of America until it’s ending.” **_*4*_**

Sara was stunned. Her mother had been a vigilante like her? Had done practically the same thing in Gotham City that Sara was doing in Star City? She coughed to clear her throat and asked quietly, “Do you think Dad knows?”

“No, I stopped being a vigilante before I met your father, so he wouldn’t connect my past with your present, Sara,” Dinah replied. “As for if he knows simply because of how defensive you’ve been of The Canary? If he does, he’s denying it with all his might. He would rather live in a happy delusion than admit his daughter is the one he’s been chasing for two years.” Dinah’s expression softened. “I should’ve realized sooner that it was you. You and I are very much alike, something your father and Laurel have both commented on. That should’ve been my first clue. I’m guessing you did more than just get experience in E.R.’s while traveling the world with Doctors Without Borders. You learned how to fight from anyone you could, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sara said softly. “I wanted to tell you, to tell Dad and Laurel, so many times. But how do I tell the people I love that I go out every night and fight with the Russians or prostitution rings or traffickers? I didn’t think any of you would understand.”

“I do, Sara,” Dinah said softly, reaching a hand across the desk. Sara took it, and Dinah gave it a gentle squeeze. “I _do_.” Dinah pulled away, leaning back in her chair. “Now, as to the original reason you came here… When I was in the Justice Society, there was a member who called himself The Spectre and like the man your father is chasing, he had an absolute form of justice. His name was Jim Corrigan, and he was a detective who had been gunned down by mobsters. His commitment to justice saw him given the powers and responsibilities of The Spectre, being possessed by an angelic force that he commanded to mete out justice. If the man your father is chasing is anything like Jim, then he is a force of nature that cannot and will not be stopped.”

“Is Dad in any danger?” Sara asked instinctively.

“No,” Dinah said with a shake of her head. “Your father believes in justice and The Spectre doesn’t bother cops unless they’re dirty, which your father certainly isn’t. But I suspect that our city is in for a rude awakening if The Spectre has chosen to make his home here.”

Mother and daughter were silent as they contemplated just what that might entail, and each wondered who it was that might be The Spectre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* I wanted Oliver to struggle with the balance between being The Spectre and his humanity, and this is a struggle that is probably going to be on-going until Oliver gains some more connections to this world. I don’t know how often The Voice gets involved with The Spectre in the comics, so I’m kind of winging it as far as it’s advising Oliver. When it comes to the thing about the guy in Russia who Oliver skinned alive in 5x17, I think people get so caught up in the narrative Guggenheim and Mericle were shoving down our throats that they forgot what kind of man Kovar was and the kind of men that he would surround himself with. It’s a damn sure bet that the men working for Konstantin Kovar are not lily-white and just doing the job while supporting their families. But maybe I think too much about shit like this.
> 
> *2* I didn’t want Sara to suffer to the same degree that I think she suffered in canon (my head-canon is that Ivo used her to relieve his own stress and that after the Amazo sank, the survivors found her and gang-raped her, leaving her for dead when Nyssa found her, assuming Nyssa didn’t kill her attackers in the process of their gang-rape), but I wanted her to still feel the need to defend women against the abuses of men as her starting point as The Canary, and as much as I hate it, suffering from sexual assault is one of the sure-fire ways. But in this, Sara is over ten years removed from that time (she was eighteen when it happened), so she has managed to put it behind her with time and therapy and make something of herself in the process. Whereas in canon, it would’ve only been four years for Sara when she returned to Starling City, and that’s assuming the League isn’t as medieval and patriarchal as it sounds in Season 2.
> 
> *3* Now, an ironic thing is that Caity Lotz strikes me more as the cheerleader type but apparently it was Katie Cassidy who was a cheerleader in high school. Now, being a guy, I’m not too sure about cheerleaders elsewhere, but at my high school there were a couple at least who were insatiable flirts. I decided to make Sara a cheerleader in high school because she looks the part. As to the bit that we got in S2 about Laurel being included in this world’s back history? I’ve always felt that Laurel did what she did not out of spite but out of a desire to keep her sister from being used at one of Tommy’s parties. That said, that isn’t how Sara would see it no matter how mature she is, and she might feel bitter about it for years to come. But maybe I’m overestimating the bitterness that can crop up between sisters.
> 
> *4* Obviously, in this new world, the Justice Society lasted longer and there’s a difference in their age from canon for Dinah and Quentin to let Dinah be a vigilante before she met Quentin. As for why I chose Gotham? In Season 1, when at dinner with Malcolm, Laurel says she became friends with Tommy *after* Rebecca’s murder, which suggests she and the two boys didn’t become friends until they were eight years old. This suggests that the Lances moved to Starling City from somewhere else when Laurel was seven or eight, and she made friends with two outgoing boys upon being enrolled in school.


	5. Battle Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: THERE IS AN ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT IN THIS CHAPTER.

The Canary slammed her bo staff into the jaw of a Russian strong-arm who had been rushing her, knocking him flat on his back with a pained groan. The Canary wasted no time, leaping over the moaning Russian and delivering a low to kick to another Russian’s balls, following this up with another kick to the man’s face as he bent over in pain. Star City’s resident vigilante found herself faced with three more Russian bruisers. “ _It’s almost like you guys_ enjoy _getting your asses kicked by a woman,_ ” she said tauntingly as she twirled her bo staff into a ready position. “ _This isn’t some kinda kinky sex thing, right? Cuz, well, ick._ ”

“We will show you woman’s proper place,” said one of the bruisers, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

“ _You mean standing on top of your bruised egos_?” The Canary quipped tauntingly. The one who had spoken rushed forward, his patience snapping, and The Canary jutted her bo staff forward sharply, striking the Russian in his solar plexus and sending him stumbling back, wheezing. The Canary moved forward, delivering a second blow to the side of the Russian’s neck. The man collapsed to the side, groaning and trying to recover as the other two moved forward as one, sticking to the strategy that the three had intended to use to take down the meddlesome vigilante bitch. They moved in, trying to pincer The Canary between them. The vigilante got wise to their plans and ducked into a forward roll, sliding between the left leg of one Russian and the right leg of the other and popping up behind them. Twirling in place with a grace that matched her name, The Canary swung her bo staff in a precision arc, striking both men in the back of their heads. The two men proved to have thicker skulls than most as while they stiffened for a moment from the pain of the attack, they turned to face her.

The Canary cursed under her breath at this because she had thought that would knock them out of the fight. Now she was the one pinned in a corner and the two Russians were joined by their third compatriot, having recovered from her previous attack. She was good, but even she was going to struggle against three Russians who had managed to pin her in a corner. The Canary thrust her bo staff forward, aiming for one of the men’s jugulars, but he leaned back and grabbed the end of her bo staff in both hands, twisting in place and jerking it forward. The Canary was thrown off-balance by this tactic and lost her grip on her staff, which was thrown behind the Russians as they closed ranks. Three more Russians entered the room; two bodyguards and one Alexi Leonov, the head of the Star City chapter of the Bratva. At a signal from Leonov, his two guards moved in to help their three compatriots.

The Canary felt fear grip her heart as the two guards joined the other three. She was just now beginning to realize the trap that she had walked into. She had thought that it was fear of _her_ that had had that stoolie spilling his guts about where Leonov was going to be breaking in new girls for the Russians’ prostitution ring to her, but it had actually been fear of the _Russians_ that had had him doing so. This had all been a trap, and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. The Canary kicked the center man in the chin, and he stumbled back a bit, but it appeared these men were used to head shots. Not good. That was usually how she beat odds like this.

Two of the men surged forward, grabbing her arms. The Canary jerked in place, trying to free herself, but the Russians’ grips were firm. The fear that had gripped her heart intensified as she realized she was a lone woman in a room with _six_ Russians who saw women in one way only. There was a reason the Bratva was called a _brotherhood_. Women were seen in only one light within the Russian mob: as something to warm their beds and service them as they so desired. **_*1*_**

The Canary rejected this, rejected that this should be her final fight, and struggled with all of her might, jerking at the grips holding her arms and kicking at chins, balls, and stomachs. Two of the other Russians managed to grab a leg apiece and soon her struggles were essentially airborne. “The desk,” Leonov called, and the four Russians holding her carried her struggling form over to the desk. The fifth man, the one she had hit in the solar plexus, returned the favor, driving her breath from her body and leaving her sagging in their grip before he moved and grabbed her head, forcing a rag into her mouth and then taping it in place, effectively ending any chance she could use her Cry.

The Canary was stretched out on the desk as Leonov approached, bringing to bear a military-issue K-Bar knife, which he ran along her straining form with a lascivious smile on his face. “We have looked forward to this moment greatly, my dear,” he said smugly. “Now, let’s cut you out of that admittedly ravishing outfit and see what we have to work with, hmm?”

“ _Fuck you,_ ” The Canary said, the words muffled and garbled by the gag but still audible.

“I believe that is what we will be doing to _you_ ,” Leonov said. He turned to the fifth man. “Get those boots off of her. We’ll start with the pants. Make it easier.” The Canary squirmed as the fifth man moved to grab her boots, and in that moment, all she could think was, _Please, God, don’t let this be how it ends._ As it turned out, this was the right thing to think at just the right moment.

Another presence was suddenly in the room, a presence that blasted the Russians away from her with a wave of its hand. The Canary shot up on the desk and pulled at the tape and the gag, freeing her mouth, as The Spectre moved forward. “ _Thank you,_ ” The Canary said shakily.

“ **It was my honor,** ” The Spectre replied. The Canary stood on shaky legs, the fear and adrenalin that had been flooding her body leaving in the face of The Spectre’s awe-inspiring presence. In hindsight, this was a critical error, for Leonov still had the knife in his possession and he saw a chance to get rid of the interfering whore who had been making problems for him and his people. He leaped forward, driving the knife into her back. The Canary screamed as the knife dug into her backside, twisting upward as Leonov directed it, and collapsing to the ground as he shoved her aside, blood seeping from the jagged wound at a steady pace as she curled in on herself, trying to reach the wound and stem the bleeding.

The Spectre turned in place to face Leonov. “ **That,** ” he said menacingly, “ **was a mistake.** ” He made a snapping motion with his right hand, and Leonov exploded into a pulpy mass that spattered the walls, floor, his men, and the curled-up Canary. The Spectre glowered at the unconscious Russians but knew that the important thing right now was The Canary. He reached down and gathered her up in his arms. In her state of pain, she whimpered and curled into him. “ **It’s alright, Sara,** ” he whispered softly. “ **Everything is going to be fine.** ” The Canary didn’t say anything; the pain had become too much, and she had passed out.

A moment later, The Spectre and The Canary were in the motel room the former was renting under his mortal identity. As he laid Sara down on the bed, the robes of The Spectre faded, and Oliver turned his friend over onto her stomach so he could examine the wound. The wound was deep and jagged and had nicked a few of the internal organs. Oliver held a hand up to the wound and focused on mending the damage the K-Bar knife had done. First the internal organs that had been nicked; next, repairing the blood vessels and the damaged musculature; finally, healing the fatty tissue and the epidermis. Slowly, he pulled his hand away to reveal a shiny pink scar where the blow had been dealt. Oliver moved and sat down in a chair near the window, which he turned to face the bed. He would wait here until Sara woke up.

As he waited, Oliver thought over the events of the past two weeks, since he had made the decision to let go of his old life and embrace what his life had been in this new world. As he had done so, he had realized that his life here in this new world made him just as much of a candidate to be The Spectre as his previous life had. He had still stood against corruption, tyranny, and evil, even though he had ultimately died of natural causes, and it was what he had _done_ in his life that had led him to become The Spectre, not how he had died. The Voice had confirmed this, and Oliver had felt foolish for doubting that he had earned the right to be The Spectre in his new life.

He had also begun to feel an emotional connection to his loved ones on this new world. He and Laurel had had a relationship on this new world, and while he felt something for her, he had begun to realize that in this new world, their relationship really had been rather shallow, and it had come about because they had been old friends and it seemed a rather natural progression for the two of them to have begun dating after being friends for so long. He didn’t feel the longing he had felt for the Laurel he had known on Earth-1 any longer, perhaps because he had finally said goodbye to his old life and the connections that came with it. In this world, he could fully accept that he and Laurel weren’t compatible and that she was better off with their best friend, Tommy.

His life with Tommy in this world had been much the same as it had been on Earth-1, and so it was easy to feel a connection to Tommy. Perhaps the easiest of them all, even easier than his relationship with his parents. Tommy was his brother in all but blood, and he looked forward to the day that they could reunite. He knew it would have to be done carefully, as he didn’t want anyone aside from Sara connecting Oliver Queen with The Spectre. He also had no idea how Anatoli Knyasev and Slade Wilson would react to the return of Oliver Queen, because while he had joined them in their revolution aboard the _Amazo_ , he had also destroyed the Mirakuru and from what he could tell, Slade at least was now an agent of H.I.V.E. and might take a dim view on that front. His returning to the public eye could see Anatoli and Slade paying a visit to Star City to have a chat with an old friend.

His relationship with his parents had been strained before getting on the _Gambit_ because they felt like they were pulling teeth, getting him to do his duties for Queen Industries. He had no idea how they might react to his sudden return.

Mia had been eleven when he had left on the _Queen’s Gambit_. She was twenty-four now, a young woman comfortable in her own skin and a bit of a genius, being groomed to take over from Moira as C.E.O. of Queen Industries. She might take offense to his sudden reappearance, be worried their parents would decide to put him back into play. Oliver would have to make it clear he had no intention of getting involved with the company and even cite what had happened with the _Queen’s Gambit_ as to why he would not have anything to do with Queen Industries. That should hopefully make things at least ‘okay’ between his sister and him.

He had had a good relationship with his godparents, the Merlyns; they had been like a favored aunt and uncle. They would likely be overjoyed at his return.

He had had a decent relationship with Quentin and Dinah thanks to his relationship with Laurel and the fact that it hadn’t ended with him cheating on her with Sara in this new world would probably have them be happy he was alive, as well as happy for his parents to have him back.

Which left Sara. Sara and he had been friends in this life, much as they had been on Earth-1. He had been aware she had a crush on him, but he had been with Laurel and didn’t want to risk his relationship with her. In this world, the incident that led to Samantha getting pregnant was truly an accident as a result of too much drinking during a mixer at college, and it was the only time he had ‘cheated’ on Laurel in this new world. He briefly wondered if what Sara had told him on Lian Yu on Earth-1 had happened here on Earth-Prime, as The Voice had informed him the new world was called. **_*2*_**

Oliver sat in silence for a few more minutes before he decided he wasn’t quite ready to come face-to-face with his new life. He stood and moved to the bed, placing a hand on Sara’s shoulder and transporting them through time and space to Sara’s bedroom at her downtown apartment. Sara shifted slightly in her sleep but didn’t wake. Oliver looked down at her, feeling a rush of _something_ go through him, but turned away and returned to his motel room.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel Merlyn scoffed to herself as she knocked for a third time on the door to her sister’s apartment. She had sent her sister a text telling her she was coming over to take her to lunch a couple of hours ago and hadn’t received a text back. She had arranged to meet Tommy and a guy from her office that she thought Sara might like, and she wasn’t about to be late. Taking the spare key that Sara had reluctantly given her in case she was ever in the hospital and needed Laurel to bring her something, Laurel entered Sara’s apartment for the first time in a couple of years, noting the Spartan decorations and shaking her head at her sister’s tomboy nature. Honestly, why did Sara have to be so difficult?

Laurel moved to the bedroom, assuming that Sara was still asleep or was just hiding out in her bedroom, hoping that Laurel would give up. Opening the door, Laurel found her sister lying on her bed and opened her mouth to give her sister a wake-up call, but the words died in her throat with a strangled sort of mewling sound as the full impact of what she was seeing sunk in.

Fist off, Sara was dressed in some kind of bondage outfit. Black leather, revealing a bit too much of her chest, but considering the kind of person Sara was, the bondage thing Laurel might’ve been able to deal with. It was the black domino mask that she was wearing as she turned fitfully in her sleep, rolling onto her stomach to reveal part of her outfit was torn and exposed a fresh, pink scar on her back that had really silenced Laurel. She had seen that screen capture of The Canary a hundred times, trying to figure out what was so familiar about the vigilante. Now she knew; she recognized her own flesh and blood despite the grainy nature of the photo. Laurel tried again to speak, but all that came from her was that strangled sort of mewling.

Sara stirred, turning over onto her back and pulling herself into a sitting position, looking around, confused, as her hand moved to her back, where she found the torn fabric of her uniform and brushed her fingers over what felt like a newly formed scar, but that was impossible, because she had just been stabbed last night. Hadn’t she? Or had she been here a while and that was why Laurel was standing in her doorway looking like a deer caught in the headlights? Wait. Laurel.

Sara’s hands shot up to her face and the mask that hid her features there, blue eyes widening as she realized what Laurel was seeing. She slowly stood, peeling her mask away from her face and placing it on the bedside table as she moved slowly towards the door. She put a hand on her older sister’s shoulder, and that seemed to snap Laurel out of her horrified stupor. Laurel’s green eyes narrowed at her sister before she dug out her phone and scrolled down her list of contacts to Tommy’s name. She waited for her husband to pick up the other end and said tightly, “Hey, Tommy, turns out Sara and I have some family things we need to discuss. We’re gonna have to do a rain check on lunch. Let Dexter know, will you?” Tommy gave an affirmative reply and Laurel hung up. “Talk!” she bit out, continuing to glare at her sister.

Sara, for her part, wasn’t about to take this lying down. “I don’t really think there’s much to say, Laurel,” Sara said waspishly. “Am I The Canary? Yes, I am. I have been for two years, and I’m not going to stop. Unless you tell Dad and he arrests me, but that’s sure going to go over well. The Police Commissioner and the District Attorney can’t even see that their own flesh and blood is the city’s resident vigilante? The press’ll eat you and Dad alive and accuse you of corruption or incompetence. Or both.”

“What were you thinking, becoming a vigilante?” Laurel snarled. “Were you even thinking at all? You know what Dad thinks of them, how he hates it when he has to call in Superman to deal with an alien threat or a metahuman that’s gone out of control.” Laurel’s brain stalled. “Wait. You’re a metahuman. The Canary has a sonic scream.” She stared at her sister with a degree of fear; very few metahumans had ended up using their powers for good and Laurel momentarily forgot that technically, The Canary was one of them, even if she was a vigilante.

Sara hid the hurt she felt at her sister’s instinctual fear as she answered. “Yeah, I do,” Sara said. “And I use it to hurl bad guys around the room, and if I get it strong enough, shatter the bones in whatever part of the body I’m aiming at. Really helps to cripple them so that Dad and you can actually catch and prosecute them.”

“Sara!” Laurel said in shock. “Do you even get what you’ve done? If anyone finds out who you are, it’ll put into question every arrest made under Dad’s tenure! It will put into question every successful prosecution I’ve made, especially of those you had a hand in catching! The people we’ve put behind bars will cry conspiracy and we’ll have no way of defending against that! All those people, all of those _criminals_ , will be back on the streets!”

“Which is why you’re not gonna say a damn thing, _princess_ ,” Sara sneered out at her older sister. “Wouldn’t want your precious spotless record dirtied by your tomboy vigilante sister, now would you?”

Laurel’s hand arced up and forward to slap her sister, but Sara caught Laurel’s slender wrist and held it firm. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sara said grimly. “You may have the sharpest tongue in the family, but _I’ve_ got the sharpest reflexes. You don’t stand a chance against me, Laurel.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty good at self-defense,” Laurel said through gritted teeth, jerking her hand free of her sister’s grip.

“Yeah, _self-defense_ ,” Sara emphasized. “I spent five years traveling and learning all sorts of things, and not just medical stuff. I learned how to fight in a dozen different styles, even trained under the Batman before I realized what a fucking hypocrite the man is. I could break you like a toothpick, Laurel, but I won’t because you’re still my sister. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you stop me from doing what I know is right. The Glades are dying; they are being destroyed by a criminal elite who don’t care who they hurt, so long as they maintain their wealth and power. You and Dad are so busy schmoozing it up with our dear mayor and the corporate elite that you’ve forgotten about the people caught in the middle. Do you even _care_ about those people anymore, Laurel? Or have you forgotten what it means to be Laurel Lance now that you’ve been Laurel Merlyn for so long?” **_*3*_**

This time, Sara did nothing to stop the slap Laurel aimed at her. “Guess that answers that question,” Sara said bitterly. “You go ahead and fight your big battles, Laurel. I’ll be here to help the people caught in the crossfire.” Sara gave her sister a shove towards the front room and the door. “I’ve gotta have a shower and get changed. I still have to go to work tonight and then patrol the Glades again, make sure I’m seen. Don’t want the Russians thinking they killed me last night.”

“What?” Laurel squawked in horror, but Sara said nothing more, instead taking her sister by the arm and forcing her to the front door. Once Laurel was in the hallway, Sara held out a hand expectantly. Laurel knew what she wanted, and reluctantly handed over the key that Sara had given her. Sara closed her fist around the key and shut the door, locking it behind her. She leaned against the door, listening to Laurel’s footsteps fading as she made her way to the elevator. Now the question was whether Laurel would tell their father that his youngest was the vigilante that he had been chasing for two years.

Sara returned to her bedroom and slowly peeled her uniform off of her, wincing as part of it stuck to her backside thanks to dried blood. That, at least, proved to her that her final memories weren’t a lie. Leonov had stabbed her in the back after The Spectre had arrived. But how had she been healed without going to the hospital? Did The Spectre have the power to heal as well as to destroy? Were there any _limits_ to his power or was he beyond even Superman’s level of power? If so, the dynamic of power on the planet was about to face a paradigm shift and those like Sara and the Vigilante were about to get their own super-powered backer.

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver Queen was watching the news when a special report came in. The Joker had kidnapped a bus full of teenagers on their way to a game and was threatening to peel the skin from their bodies with his butterfly knife, one every hour, until the Batman presented himself for judgment. He had been joined by a cadre of other supervillains: his ever-faithful sycophant, Harley Quinn; the corpulent kingpin of crime, Oswald Cobblepot/The Penguin; the former District Attorney suffering from an acute case of split personality, Harvey Dent/Two-Face; and the ever-voracious Waylon Jones/Killer Croc. Oliver went over what he knew of each of these.

Harley Quinn did whatever The Joker wanted and would probably help hold the captured teenagers down.

Oswald Cobblepot was guilty of several sexual crimes, including but not limited to rape and sodomy.

Dent was of two minds about everything and depended upon the flip of his coin to make his decision. But sometimes he flipped it until he got the answer he wanted, so even that wasn’t a failsafe, and who knew what he would do to the teenagers that weren’t being skinned alive.

Finally, there was Jones, who had a taste for human flesh thanks to his mutation.

All of these people had been captured numerous times, escaped numerous times, and each time they did, they killed more innocents. The Batman’s unwillingness to do all that was necessary brought misery, pain, and death to the innocent. No more. It was time that these _creatures_ learned the true measure of justice. Oliver stood, the robes of The Spectre appearing around him, and he vanished, reappearing in the shadows of the warehouse where The Joker and his cadre had holed up with their captive teenagers. The Spectre took a moment to consider the situation.

The Joker had one teenager, a boy of about sixteen, strapped down to a table and was divesting him of his clothes in preparation. Harley Quinn was looking on, panting excitedly like the overgrown lapdog that she was.

Oswald Cobblepot was leering at a couple of girls in white and red cheerleading outfits.

Dent was flipping his coin impatiently, gun in hand, as he eyed a group of leather-clad teens.

Jones had separated another girl in a cheerleading outfit from the group and was running a clawed finger along her bare calf, eyeing her hungrily.

The Spectre did not waste any time in acting. A wave of his hand, and every one of the super-villains had frozen stiff. The Spectre floated into view. “ **The Batman has caused too much suffering in his quest to rehabilitate those who cannot be rehabilitated,** ” The Spectre intoned, his hand waving again and forming the frozen super-villains into a line. Their eyes flickered from side-to-side, showing anger and distress at being caught unawares, but not the fear that they should be feeling while in the presence of The Spectre. “ **The status quo can no longer be maintained. Your final judgment is upon you.** ”

“ ** _Their judgment is for the law to decide, not you,_** ” a voice said from the shadows, and a moment later a batarang shot out of the darkness, careening towards The Spectre, who waved a hand in its direction. The batarang shimmered and transformed into a single white rose, falling to the ground with a soft _flop_.

“ **Human laws can be corrupted and twisted by those who’s souls are the same,** ” The Spectre replied coldly to the Batman. “ **These _creatures_ have mocked society’s laws and they get away with it because they are declared ‘criminally insane’ and thus in need of rehabilitation. There is no rehabilitation for these people. Why forestall judgment when there is no hope?**”

“There is always hope,” another voice said, and The Spectre turned to find Superman floating down from the shattered skylight. “You only need to know where to look. Every person deserves a second chance.”

“ **And when they squander that chance?** ” The Spectre questioned. “ **Do you give them a third chance? A fourth? A tenth? How many chances are to be given before the truth is recognized, Kal-El of Krypton?** ”

“ ** _As many as it takes,_** ” the Batman said as he stepped out of the shadows.

“ **This debate is pointless,** ” The Spectre said. “ **The fates of these creatures are already decided.** ” The Spectre waved a hand, and all five let out muffled screams as their skin was ripped from their bodies. Blood spattered both Batman and Superman as the hides of the supervillains fluttered to the ground. The shock of being instantly skinned proved too much for all five. They had only moments of painful awareness and then they expired.

“ ** _You will face justice for that,_** ” Batman growled out.

“ **I _am_ justice,**” The Spectre replied, and vanished with the expression of a thought. Superman and Batman stared at where he had been and both realized that they needed to go to Star City, where The Spectre had made his home, if they were to bring him to justice. Each wondered if The Canary would support them, or if she would choose to side with this murderer. **_*4*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* This is me throwing shade at not only all the ‘Bratva Princess Felicity’ stories, but also Season 5, Episode 12, where Felicity pretends to be highly placed in the Bratva with Rory and Curtis playing Bratva members. That was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen on “Arrow” at that point aside from, perhaps, Felicity hacking a piece of construction equipment in S4. Not only because of the fact that there’s a reason it’s called a ‘Brotherhood’, but also because Rory is plainly not Russian and the Bratva are racist bastards, and thus would not have a Jewish man or one of African descent in their ranks. OLIVER is barely tolerated as an American. *coughs* Sorry. Bit of a rant there…
> 
> *2* Okay, let me address something here. The only two times we know Oliver cheated on Laurel in canon are with Samantha and Sara. The first was, based on the way Oliver was acting, probably like it is in this story: too much alcohol at a sorority/fraternity mixer. Sara is obvious. The only other one mentioned but never really addressed as to when it happened was Max Fuller’s fiancé and the rehearsal dinner. But people take Sara’s comment from 2x13’s flashbacks to mean that Oliver slept with those girls while he was with Laurel. I don’t get this at all. But like with the whole ‘Oliver is a monster’ pile of shit, people have just accepted the Doctrine of Guggenheim that Oliver Queen is a disgusting piece of human garbage that should in no way be considered sympathetic. *rolls eyes*
> 
> *3* Drew on Oliver’s speech to Diggle in 1x04 for this. As to Sara’s comments, it was kind of a dig at what the writers did to Earth-Prime Laurel. Based on Dinah Drake’s comments in 8x09 and Tommy saying she was his wife to E-2 Laurel, it’s pretty much a guarantee that she wasn’t Black Canary (since DD says she found no trace of BC at all in history) and that she was focused on settling down as Laurel Merlyn. Laurel Lance is someone who would do anything to get justice for the downtrodden; Laurel Merlyn sticks with just the law as it stands.
> 
> *4* I hope that the confrontation between The Spectre, Batman, and Superman was done well and that I captured all of the characters’ ways. Oliver/The Spectre is pretty easy. It’s capturing Batman’s grim desire to rehabilitate and Superman’s belief that there is always hope even in the darkest souls that is hard.


	6. Lance Family Discussions

Quentin Lance picked up the phone gingerly, as though it were a viper about to strike. “Lance,” he said reluctantly, beginning the conversation that he was not looking forward to having.

“Quentin, Jim Gordon here,” the Police Commissioner of Gotham City said on the other end. “It looks like one of yours crossed over to my city and took matters into his own hands.”

“I saw the news,” Quentin said. “Let me guess; that freak you hang around with is griping about The Spectre deciding to kill the other freaks that he keeps trying to rehabilitate?”

“The Batman has expressed some concern about the actions of The Spectre and the fact the man seems to be expanding his operations to other cities, yes,” Gordon said mildly. “I know how you feel about vigilantes, Quentin, but the truth is, we need their help. The world isn’t the same as it was when we were rookies together back in the 12th Precinct here in Gotham. There’s a brand of criminal we’re just not equipped to deal with. Batman, Superman, Supergirl, Vibe, Wonder Woman, The Atom, The Canary… they are. You’d be doing your heart good if you just accepted that they have their place in our world.” **_*1*_**

“You may have thrown in the towel, Jim, but I haven’t,” Quentin said shortly. “You don’t need to go outside of the law to find justice. I have to believe that. If I don’t, I might as well resign.”

Gordon sighed at his old friend’s stubborn refusal to accept the changing paradigm. “Do you know anything about The Spectre?”

“He killed the head of the Bratva here in Star City last night,” Quentin said. “There was blood at the scene, but it was contaminated. Don’t even know if it was The Spectre’s to begin with. Could’ve belonged to Leonov, considering he was nothing more than a pulpy mass.”

“Anything else?” Gordon persisted.

Quentin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is this Jim Gordon, my old partner from the 12th, asking, or is it Commissioner Gordon, Batman’s number one bootlicker? Because if it’s the latter, I’ve got nothing to say. And you can tell that freak if he shows up in my city, he’ll be hunted the same as The Canary and The Spectre.”

“Quentin…” Gordon sighed.

“I mean it, Jim,” Quentin said sharply. He looked up at a soft knock on his door. Laurel was standing in the doorway, looking pale and gesturing urgently. Quentin waved her in as he continued, “If I see anything that even looks like a bat soaring in the skies over my city, I’ll be sending my guys out hunting that flying rodent you’re so fond of. Vigilantes have no place in Star City, not on my watch.” Quentin hung up, not giving Gordon another chance to argue his case. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. He glanced up at Laurel as she sat down across from him, noting idly that the door was shut behind her, meaning whatever she had to say, she didn’t want to be overheard. “Sorry about that, sweetheart. This thing with The Spectre and what he did over in Gotham is giving me all kinds of grief. What can I do for you? Is this an official visit or personal?”

“Kind of both, Dad,” Laurel said. “I found something out this morning, something horrible. I can barely believe it myself, and I saw and heard it with my own eyes. I don’t know if I should tell you, but it’s too important to keep secret.”

“Laurel, honey, stop dancing around it and just tell me,” Quentin said. “Whatever it is, we can work it out together. We always have.”

“It’s about Sara,” Laurel said, and Quentin felt his stomach clench. Had something happened to his youngest daughter? He hoped no one had taken advantage of her, not that he thought she would let anyone do so, with how fit she was. “I went to go see her, take her out to lunch, introduce her to a guy from my office I thought she might like.”

“If you’re trying to play matchmaker for your sister, that’s gonna be a tough journey,” Quentin said.

“You have no idea, Daddy,” Laurel said miserably. Quentin’s stomach clenched again. “Sara didn’t answer her door, so I used the key she gave me to let myself inside. I know, that wasn’t why she gave it to me, but I was impatient, and I figured she might need a push to get moving. But when I got to her bedroom…”

“What?” Quentin asked urgently. “She wasn’t hurt, was she?”

“She might’ve been, but she sure wasn’t in a state of mind to share if she was,” Laurel said. “Daddy, there’s no easy way to say this. Sara’s The Canary.”

Silence followed Laurel’s last sentence, an awful silence that felt as though it were pressing down on them. Quentin gaped at his eldest, sure he couldn’t have heard what he thought he had just heard. Sara, The Canary? It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Sara might be a bit tomboyish and she certainly had poor taste in supporting The Canary’s anarchist agenda, but that didn’t mean that Sara _was_ The Canary. She wouldn’t do that to him, to Laurel, to her family. But after his initial emotional gut-wrenching thoughts, Quentin’s analytical mind started to analyze everything about his youngest that he had refused to say before.

Sara traveling with Doctors Without Borders, then her taking up residencies in places like Gotham and Metropolis, and finally her returning to Star City two years ago, right before The Canary popped up on the S.C.P.D.’s radar. Sara always being late for family functions, usually giving the excuse that she had had a late night with someone. Even the most recent time, at Sunday dinner with the Queens and Merlyns, she had been very vague about what she had been doing, and she had seemed very interested in what had happened at the docks. He knew that she had gotten a copy of the report on The Spectre’s first appearance from one of his officers, but had let it slide, hoping that seeing the gritty reality of what these people did would scare her away from supporting The Canary or, worse, The Spectre.

But now he couldn’t ignore what had been staring him in the face. The long nights, the bruises she hid with foundation that she thought he hadn’t noticed, the bags under her eyes at times that he now realized coincided with all-night pursuits of The Canary that she had slipped away from, her support of vigilantes and their anarchist agendas… it all pointed to one impossible and yet inescapable truth: his daughter was the vigilante he had been hunting for two years.

Quentin leaned back in his seat, right hand reaching up and rubbing his temple, where he felt a migraine forming. “Dad,” Laurel said, leaning forward. “What do we do?”

**_*DC*_ **

Sara Lance, clad only in a sports bra and sweat pants, twisted her torso around so that she could examine the shiny pink scar on her back, the only evidence she had that last night had actually happened. This wasn’t the first time she had been slashed with a knife, but it was the first time she had been stabbed as deep as she had; as a doctor, she knew Leonov’s knife had dug deep enough to nick her internal organs. By rights, she should have bled out slowly and painfully unless she went to an E.R. and got treatment. Sara brushed her fingers lightly over the scar, wincing slightly as pain lanced up. So, the healing that had been done didn’t quite take away the pain; or maybe it was just phantom pain, like those who suffer from amputation felt.

Sara turned away from the mirror and back towards her bed, where she had laid out the clothes she would be wearing to work tonight. She had briefly considered calling in a sick day, give herself time to recover from being stabbed and the blood loss, but instead she had been chugging orange juice most of the afternoon and decided to continue with life as normal. Otherwise, she’d be drawing attention to what she did at night, and even though she was probably already exposed to her family thanks to her sister discovering her this morning, she wanted to keep her identity quiet for as long as possible.

The only hero in the world whose identity was even partly known was Wonder Woman, and that was because her civilian identity served as the Themysciran ambassador, Diana Prince, a name she had adopted as her own because surnames didn’t exist in her culture. She faced a lot of ridicule for not getting involved in certain kinds of crimes, and while Sara admired Wonder Woman to a degree, she had to agree with the criticism that Wonder Woman, like Superman, seemed to have lost sight of fighting ‘low level crimes’ like prostitution rings and the like, if they had ever gotten involved in them at all. **_*2*_**

It’s why Sara herself focused her attention on such crimes, because those people had been lost to the sight of heroes like Superman and Wonder Woman, while the Batman was religiously devoted to the rehabilitation of some of the worst scum on the planet. Though, Sara’s lips curled into a smirk, some of that scum had been permanently dealt with by her savior. She sort of wished she could have seen the look on Batman’s face when The Spectre did to those villains what they had been planning to do to the kids. The Spectre certainly had a sense of poetic justice.

Sara had just finished dressing in the clothes she would be wearing to work that evening when there was a sharp, demanding knock at her front door. Sara rolled her ice-blue eyes, recognizing her father’s impatient knocking. She went to the front door and decided the best approach was to cut his legs out from under him. She opened the door to find Quentin standing on the other side. “If this is about what Laurel found out today, I’m not changing who I am,” Sara said sharply, holding up a hand to forestall anything her father might say. “And frankly, if you think I could’ve become anything else after listening to you complain about organized crime in this city for years and experiencing the terror those victimized by the Russians every night for myself when I was in college, you don’t know me at all.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Quentin said roughly, pushing his way into Sara’s apartment and slamming the door shut behind him. “I don’t know who the hell you are anymore. The Sara I raised was a gentle person, she couldn’t stand to see any living thing hurt, much less put guys into the hospital with broken bones. Doesn’t that go against the Hippocratic oath? ‘Do no harm’?”

“There’s lots of ways to help people, Dad,” Sara said frostily. “Sometimes it means healing people, and other times it means beating the shit out of bad guys. Either way, people are helped. I see plenty of darkness in my line of work at the Merlyn clinic and I know that the police department can’t properly police the Glades with the budget cuts our _dear_ Mayor Queen has set down. Don’t try to tell me you aren’t pissed about that.”

“Of course, I’m pissed about that, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” Quentin snapped.

“Exactly my point,” Sara said. “You can’t do _anything_ about what’s happening in the Glades because people like Robert Queen don’t care about the people there, don’t care about the suffering inflicted on them by the Russians, the Triad, and all the other gangs. All they care about is protecting their self-interests, which means all the money in the police department is funneled into protecting the business district and the places those people frequent while the Glades, where thousands of people still live and work, is left to rot. Someone’s gotta do something to fight back against the scum that step on the throats of the people in the Glades, and if it’s not gonna be the cops, or the courts, then it’s gonna be _me_.” **_*3*_**

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Quentin said disbelievingly. “How did you get to be like this? Please, Sara, I’m trying to understand how the daughter I raised, the girl who couldn’t bear to see anyone in pain, can go around breaking people’s bones.”

“I told you, I experienced what those Russian bastards do to women every night,” Sara said after a moment, meeting her father’s gaze defiantly. She wouldn’t be ashamed of her past or what she had become, and no force on the planet could make her.

It took a moment for what Sara had said to register with Quentin, but when it did, it was like a blow to the gut for him. “When?” he rasped out.

“Freshman year of college,” Sara said. “I wasn’t the only one. From what I hear, when he was finally caught, he got a plea deal where he gave up the names of every girl he’d victimized in exchange for a lighter sentence. Let’s just say that when I heard that, that was when I knew your favorite jingle didn’t hold any sway in the real world.” **_*4*_**

Quentin sighed, face going into his hands for a moment, before he turned his attention back to his daughter. “I can’t let you keep doing this, Sara,” he said. “What you’re doing, you might think it’s justice, but it’s anarchy. When people take the law into their own hands, when vigilantes like you and The Spectre decide what punishment fits the crime, that’s when we as a society lose what makes us civilized: our laws, our morals.”

“The law is flawed and inadequate,” Sara sneered out. “Do you realize that most of the people who patron the Russians’ activities are the one percent in this city? I wouldn’t be surprised if our dear mayor was a client himself.”

“That’s enough!” Quentin said sharply. “You and I both know Robert might have his problems, but he keeps his extra-marital relations to people he actually knows, and he hasn’t wandered in a while. That’s the mayor you’re talking about, not some random John.”

“It shouldn’t matter that he’s the mayor,” Sara retorted. “He’s just as guilty as the pimps who train these girls into seeing the drugs they’re kept strung out on as a reward for ‘good behavior’, because in the end it’s all about power. Power over women and power over other people. Are you so blinded by the fact that he gave you the top cop job that you can’t see he’s buying your silence?”

“So, what, Sara? Are you going to go after the mayor one day? Beat the hell out of him with your fists or hit him with that Canary Cry I hear about so much from the pundits?” Quentin demanded to know.

“I don’t know, but I know I sure as hell won’t smile at the bastard and pretend everything’s alright,” Sara said. “Or did you never wonder why I dress down when I have to attend those damn dinners you keep going to with the Queens and Merlyns? They’re not _worthy_ of the effort I could put into making myself presentable.” Sara shook her head. “In some ways, I’m glad Oliver is gone. He may have had his problems, but he _cared_ about the women he was with, cared about them so deeply that the thought of hurting them broke him. It would break his heart to know his father is helping to limit the amount of justice men like the Bratva receive.”

Quentin said nothing; he had never approved of his eldest’s relationship with the Queen scion, not with the number of girls he had dated over the years. In Quentin’s mind, Queen had seen each girl like a conquest, and he hadn’t wanted his daughter to be another notch in Queen’s bedpost. But he had aggressively ignored that Queen had got that attitude from somewhere, and it sure wasn’t his mother, who’s icy attitude gave a whole new meaning to the terms ‘frigid bitch’ and ‘Ice Queen’. Sara was probably closer than he would like to admit in her accusations aimed at the mayor, unfounded as they were in her anger. “Sara, if you go out again, I _will_ arrest you.”

“Go ahead,” Sara said, meeting her father’s gaze. “Go ahead and ruin your career, Laurel’s, drag the Lance name through the mud. Because we both know the press will tear you apart, and not just because you can’t even control your own daughter. We both know who’s side the press is on when it comes to The Canary, Dad. The court of public opinion has much wider reach than the court of law in these matters. If that means I have to be the second person whose identity is revealed to the world after Wonder Woman, so be it. I’ll face the arrest, the press, the trial, all of it with a clear conscience. You do what you have to do, Daddy, and I’ll do what I have to do.” **_*5*_**

Quentin stared at his daughter in disbelief. He had been sure the threat of legal action would at least make her pause.

Sara nearly scoffed at her father’s disbelief. He really didn’t understand why she did what he did. Well, of course, how could he? He lived in a black and white world with clearly defined laws and what should and should not be done in the pursuit of justice. He didn’t have to treat women whose husbands beat them, children whose parents abused or neglected them, or the prostitutes who managed to escape from their pimps and were suffering through the withdrawal from the drugs the pimps in this city, especially the Russians, kept their girls hooked on as a method of both reward and control. “We could argue this all day, and neither of us would give up our position,” Sara said tiredly. “But I have a shift at the Merlyn Clinic in a couple of hours and it’ll take an hour to get there with the rush hour traffic. I need to finish getting ready.” She gestured towards the door.

“This isn’t over, Sara,” Quentin said tiredly as he headed for the door.

“Yes,” Sara said, “it is.” She gave her father a mutinous glare when he opened his mouth to argue and looked pointedly at the clock. Quentin swallowed whatever he had been about to say and shuffled out of the apartment. Sara closed the door behind him before turning and leaning against the door, closing her eyes as her legs trembled from the adrenalin leaving her system. A single tear trailed out of the corner of her eye. That had been rougher than she had ever imagined it would be. She had spent many a night wondering how she would react if her father ever learned about her double life and confronted her about it. It was nowhere close to how she had imagined it would be, maybe because picturing the argument simply didn’t provide the emotions that came with it.

Sara reached up and brushed the tear away. She had her shift at the Clinic to get through, and then a patrol to make sure the Russians heard that she was still on the streets. She didn’t want them thinking Leonov had killed her last night, even though she knew without the intervention of The Spectre, that is exactly what the outcome of her being stabbed would’ve been. She decided it was time to look into upgrading her suit to provide more body armor. But how was she supposed to get it? The only one who seemed to be able to provide those kinds of upgrades was Batman, and his hypocritical ass didn’t seem to look too kindly on her beating the shit out of the Russians and using her Canary Cry as an offensive weapon.

**_*DC*_ **

“And then she has the nerve, no, the _gall_ to tell me that it _is_ over! Me! Her father!” Quentin ranted as he paced up and down in the Lance family townhouse, his wife and eldest daughter watching him with some concern. He was growing redder and redder in the face and both women were worried as to what this revelation was doing to his heart; he had been diagnosed with a heart condition a few months into his position as commissioner and had to take medications to keep his heart in good condition. Finding out that his youngest daughter was the vigilante he had been chasing for two years had thrown him for a loop and both women wondered if he had remembered to take his medication this afternoon after Laurel had left him to stew over what she had told him about Sara. “Can you believe that?” he finished, breathing heavily as he dropped into his armchair.

“I can, seeing as it’s Sara,” Laurel said bitingly. “She’s proven she doesn’t care about who gets hurt so long as she gets to do what she wants, like always. I hate to say this, but this is because of how you spoiled her. Maybe if she’d been punished for her antics a little more, she wouldn’t be The Canary.” Dinah shot her eldest a sharp look that said that wasn’t helping, but Laurel shrugged. As far as she was concerned it was a valid criticism that was directly connected to what was happening in their family now.

“What about you, Dinah?” Quentin asked, looking at his wife. “You’ve been awfully quiet.” Laurel had chimed in with agreements and explanations of her own thoughts and feelings about Sara and her arguments with both Laurel and Quentin that day, but Dinah had been silent, stewing over whether or not she should reveal what she had recently told Sara; she didn’t know if her husband could take the revelation that his wife had been a vigilante that he would’ve at least heard of when he was an officer of the G.C.P.D., albeit one that hadn’t been as accepted as the Batman was under Gordon. But how else could she explain her position regarding Sara’s status as The Canary, and the fact she had known for a few days now, without revealing the truth of her history? “Di?” Quentin prompted.

“Sorry, I was just gathering my thoughts,” Dinah said. “I have to say I’m disappointed-”

“Bit of an understatement, don’t you think?” Laurel interjected. Dinah gave her oldest a withering look, and despite the fact she was thirty-three and hadn’t lived under her mother’s thumb for years, Laurel flinched at the look.

“As I was saying,” Dinah said, “I have to say that I’m disappointed in the two of you. Neither of you seem to be trying to see this from Sara’s point of view, despite her efforts to tell you why she’s doing this. You’re so caught up in the fact that she’s breaking the law that you don’t want to understand _why_ that is and are ignoring the problems with the system she’s brought up because it’s easier just to seek to punish Sara for being different from the two of you.” Dinah met their incredulous gazes calmly. “I have to say that I _do_ understand where Sara’s coming from, and I support her wholeheartedly. I just hope she finds a way to better protect herself, because I don’t think that outfit that she wears is very protective even if it does offer mobility.”

“Di?” Quentin asked in disbelief. “How can you say you support this? You know how we feel about vigilantes in this family!”

“No, I know how _you_ and, by extension, Laurel feel about vigilantes,” Dinah retorted. “My opinion has never been asked for; you’ve simply assumed that I agree with you because I’ve kept silent about what I think of vigilantism. Well, I can hardly say I disagree with what Sara’s doing when I did the same thing myself, now can I?”

“What?” Laurel breathed out hoarsely, staring at her mother in shock.

Dinah, for her part, met her eldest’s gaze for a moment before turning to look at Quentin, who was staring at her like he had never seen her before. “I never told you this because I stopped by the time we met, but when I was younger, I was a member of the Justice Society of America,” Dinah said. “While tacitly approved of in most cities, Gotham wasn’t one of them and I was hunted along with my partner, Wildcat.”

“You were the Black Canary?” Quentin asked in disbelief. “I heard stories about her, how she infiltrated criminal rings and then exposed them. They said she called herself Black Canary because like a canary in a coal mine, she was being used to determine where the danger was coming from.”

“That is an accurate assessment,” Dinah said softly. “Sara came to my office a few days ago, asking about The Spectre, and in the process, our conversation turned to her own vigilante identity. Where Laurel takes after you, Quentin, Sara takes after me, and I couldn’t be prouder of my youngest daughter. Not that I’m not proud of you, Laurel, I am, but I remember well what it was like to want to change the world and I did, for a time. Then the Justice Society disbanded and those of us who were still active were forced to retire. The only one I know of who continued to act was the man I knew of as The Spectre, though I doubt he is the same man that you are chasing, Quentin.”

“You could at least give me a name, so I could see if this guy’s still active somewhere else,” Quentin snapped, angry and bitter that his wife had kept such a big secret from him. He remembered hearing detectives complain about the Black Canary back when he was at the 12th Precinct in Gotham City. She had, in their words, been an interfering bitch who needed someone to settle her down. Quentin remembered laughing at the joke along with other officers who heard it. To know it was his own wife who had been the butt of the joke did nothing to soothe Quentin’s temper.

“I could, but I won’t, because I know he gave up the power of The Spectre and passed on peacefully several years ago,” Dinah said calmly. “I even attended his funeral along with the other members of the J.S.A. Whoever The Spectre is now, though, will likely meet the same requirements. Someone who spent their life fighting against tyranny, corruption, greed, and evil, someone who has died and been chosen by a mysterious power to harness the powers of The Spectre. As I said at Sunday dinner, The Spectre is essentially the Angel of Vengeance, or absolute justice.”

Quentin stood and headed for the door. “Daddy, where are you going?” Laurel asked concernedly.

“To get a hotel room,” Quentin bit out and exited the townhouse, slamming the door behind him. Dinah sighed but understood her husband’s attitude. He had just had a life-shattering revelation dropped on him.

“Why didn’t you ever tell him?” Laurel questioned her mother.

“Because I knew how he felt about vigilantes, and I thought he might not like me if he knew I had been one,” Dinah replied. “I was already falling for him and I wanted him to like me, and so I hid that part of myself since it had no bearing on my life moving forward.” Dinah gestured Laurel to sit beside her, and Laurel did so. Dinah took her eldest’s right hand between her own hands and held it there. “Laurel, I am not going to say that what I did was the only thing to do, or that what Sara is doing is the only thing that can be done. We all deal with things in a different way.”

Dinah paused for a moment, waiting to see if Laurel would say anything, but Star City’s District Attorney was silent. Dinah continued, “When it comes to injustice, you and your father hold tight to the law, and I admire the both of you for it. But sometimes in this world, there exists a force of evil so strong that normal laws cannot bind it, cannot stop it. When those times come, men and women like me, The Spectre, and your sister come into play. Organized crime has become such an accepted part of daily city life that it has become a tolerated evil, and for those with such a passion in their heart as your sister has, this is absolutely unacceptable. I am not telling you that you need to accept your sister for who she is. But if you are going to have a relationship with Sara that doesn’t include a glass partition or iron bars between you, then you’re going to have to decide which is stronger: your love of the law or your love for her. Whatever you decide, you must promise me one thing: be true to yourself above all else.” **_*6*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> I know there was no Oliver in this chapter, but there had to be an examination of the fallout of Laurel’s discovery regarding Sara, and it kind of got away from me.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* I believe in the pilot episode of “Batwoman” they name-dropped Wonder Woman, so I figure she exists in the Arrowverse even if they can’t show her. As for the bit about Gordon and Quentin being rookies together, I’ll just remind everyone that in this story, the Lances moved from Gotham when Laurel was eight and Sara six. Not to mention it kind of gives a sharp contrast by having Gordon be someone Quentin was rookies with.
> 
> *2* I admit, I don’t know much about “Wonder Woman”, so if I’m wrong in assuming that, like the other members of the Trinity, she gets caught up in the big battles and forgets the little guy, I apologize. But that’s how she’s being portrayed in this story.
> 
> *3* Yup, borrowing from Oliver’s speeches again. The one thing that remained consistent for Oliver throughout all eight seasons is he gives damn good speeches, and I see Sara in this as being very akin to Season 1 Oliver, especially since she’s been fighting this fight for two years.
> 
> *4* Sadly, this type of shit happens all too often in the real world. I know because a piece of shit raped my niece, and we didn’t know until he did a deal with the prosecution for a lighter sentence. In case anyone wonders where my supposedly irrational hatred of rapists comes from… I mean, I hated them even before it happened to someone I knew, but after that, they became my number one favorite target of opportunity in my writing. I even wrote up an entire novel about a vigilante who hunted down and killed all kinds of sexual predators. Might rewrite that one day… Anyways, gone off on a tangent. I’ll end it here.
> 
> *5* Something of interest that people tend to forget about from Season 1 of Arrow was that the press were more or less on the side of The Hood. The few times we saw a newsbyte, it was either neutral or, in the case of the newsbyte from the Firefly episode, approving. That was back when the writers at least half-cared about the product they were producing since they needed “Arrow” to succeed in order for the CW to greenlight their precious “The Flash” series. So, I figure the same would be of The Canary, who is even more of an urban legend than The Hood was in the original world since she sticks to the Glades.
> 
> *6* I didn’t want Dinah to be forceful about Laurel and Quentin accepting Sara. That has to happen in their own time. But I wanted her to appeal to Laurel’s better nature and try to give her an understanding of why Sara has become The Canary. I hope Dinah’s passionate speech here was a good way of going about that. 


	7. Face to Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: One thing I keep forgetting to say is that while I will be writing this story, my primary focus remains on my major project, the “Forging A Better Future” series. So, keep that in mind in case there’s any delay in updates after we reach Chapter 12 (Chapter 13 if you count the preface), which is what I have written up to. But I needed something to write when I start getting tunnel vision or need a small break from “Forging”, and this was a fairly popular idea I had last year, hence its resurrection.

Oliver Queen studied the newspaper reporting on his activities in Gotham with some amusement. Written by Clark Kent for the _Daily Planet_ , the article was a scathing commentary on the brutality that The Spectre was capable of and a condemnation of his actions against The Joker and his cadre of villains. Oliver mused that in the past this sort of article would’ve sent him into a tailspin, questioning his morality, but thanks to the encouragements that The Voice had given him regarding his actions towards those guilty of heinous crimes, he had come to realize that it was in part his misplaced survivor’s guilt that had him thinking in that way.

Now that he had let go of his past and begun to properly mourn for his family and his universe, Oliver had been able to see his actions in a new light. The Spectre was a force for justice beyond anything he could have done as Green Arrow, a calling higher than any in the mortal world, including that of Ra’s al Ghul, a calling that he had admittedly been tempted to take once upon a time. Performing his duties as The Spectre and rendering brutal justice to those deserving of it, to those who mocked society’s laws or were considered a ‘tolerated evil’, was satisfying in many ways, beyond any level of satisfaction he had gleaned from seven and a half years as a vigilante.

Oliver knew that now that he was on the radar of Batman and Superman, he could expect a visit from them. Perhaps they would even rope in the final member of their ‘holy trinity’, Wonder Woman, but that was fifty-fifty at best. Wonder Woman, while she was a hero, was not above ending threats permanently when the occasion called for it, dating back to her first appearance during World War I and her battle with her half-brother, Ares. She knew that in war, people died, and that was the same in the war on crime as it was in a war with soldiers on either side and civilians caught in the crossfire. But like most heroes, she forgot about the civilians caught in the crossfire sometimes; the Themysciran embassy offered no aid to those forced to rebuild homes and city districts following a battle between Wonder Woman and one of her foes.

On another matter, Oliver had been considering his own beginnings as a hero. Back then, he had known about the cost to the little guy and had made sure that the people who were victimized by those he took down as The Hood received compensation for their suffering. Something he had failed to continue when he returned and began his journey towards heroism as the Arrow and later the Green Arrow. Oliver was coming to realize that of all the forms his identity had taken, The Hood was his truest self, and that left him in a bit of a quandary. The Spectre was a force of nature, and against such things as organized crime, gangs, and supervillains, there was no chance of any slipping through justice. But what of those who shielded themselves from prosecution with obscure laws? What of those who victimized others via white collar crimes? Were they not as deserving of justice as the more blatant criminals? And if he were to go about punishing them as he once had as The Hood, how would he do it? While their actions caused suffering, most did not deserve death, men like John Byrne being the exception, not the rule. After a moment of indecision, he reached out for The Voice with his mind. Almost instantly, he felt a comforting presence in his mind, and surrounding him. “ _Something troubles you, Spectre?_ ” The Voice asked.

“Yes,” Oliver said softly. “Thanks to your advice and counsel, I have been able to accept my role and dispense justice as needed on those who are most blatant in flouting society’s laws. But what of those like I took down when I was first starting out? White collar criminals whose only crime is cheating those in low-income families out of their meager accounts?”

“ _You must take a deeper look at the consequences of these men’s actions to find the truth of how they should be punished, Spectre,_ ” The Voice said gently. “ _You acknowledge that their actions cause suffering, but have you looked to the extent of said suffering, what it drives people to do? The conditions in which they live, the struggle for survival that they endure every day? Darkness knows no bounds, Spectre, and neither does justice. Look to the consequences of these men’s actions, then follow your heart to its conclusion._ ” The Voice’s presence once more faded away, and Oliver was left feeling empty once again, as he always was after The Voice departed.

Shaking himself out of his empty state, Oliver decided to focus on someone easy. His very first takedown in Starling City, Adam Hunt. In this world, like in his, Hunt had made his fortune using Ponzi schemes and the like to swindle the elderly and others in the low-income bracket out of their money. Oliver looked passed Hunt’s actions and focused on the consequences they had on those who suffered from these schemes. What he found shocked and horrified him.

Those on disability, ranging in age from their 20s to their 60s, found themselves losing their homes because of failure to pay rent, and for many, this led to the inevitable decision to end their lives. Over three hundred people had ended their lives after Hunt had swindled them out of their meager accounts. Others still had been relegated to being housed in psychiatric hospitals after having a psychotic break following their evictions, sometimes leading to injuries and deaths on the part of those responsible for handing them their eviction notices. Another twenty or so deaths could be attributed to this.

Those who had not been on government welfare but merely had low-paying jobs were now living homeless on the streets, panhandling, and seeking any aid people would give, which wasn’t much since Oliver’s father had, as mayor, instituted a number of anti-homeless laws that had seen the homeless confined almost exclusively to the Glades. Oliver’s stomach stirred as his mind compared this to his own universe, where crime and corruption had been confined to the Glades by Malcolm’s cabal. But there was no need for something like that here, right? Merlyn’s wife was alive and well, and so there was no plans to destroy the Glades. Right?

Oliver focused his attention back on the matter at hand. Those who lived on the streets suffered all manner of crimes perpetrated against them. Beatings, rapes, murders were just the top of the list. Some were given ‘jobs’ as drug mules, moving the product of the Triad and other gangs from one part of the city to another. Their reward was a dose of their favorite drug to get them through until the next ‘job’.

Oliver grimaced as he found that some of those he had killed as The Spectre following his disruption of Byrne’s activities had been victims of Hunt’s as well, selling their wives or children in order to keep themselves afloat for a time.

Faced with all of this, Oliver understood what The Voice had meant for him to understand. While all Hunt may have done against the law was run a few scams, the suffering he caused was massive in scale and deserved as just a reward as any rapist or murderer because he had put people in a position to be beaten, raped, murdered, or sold into slavery by desperate parents and spouses. Oliver’s form of justice as The Spectre was as much for the likes of Adam Hunt as it was for the likes of The Joker. **_*1*_**

Oliver decided there was no time like the present and stood from where he had been laying on his motel bed, idly noting that he was fast approaching the day when he would no longer have cash on hand to keep renting the room and that as such, he would be forced to show himself to his family soon enough. The robes of The Spectre wreathed around him and his eyes glowed with power as he took one step forward and found himself in Adam Hunt’s office, where the man was going over documents from a recent merger with his bodyguard standing nearby. Hunt shouted in alarm at the sudden appearance of The Spectre, and his bodyguard drew his weapon, opening fire on the figure that had just appeared and represented a clear and present threat to his principal. The Spectre held up a hand, and the bullets froze in midair as the bodyguard seized up, held by an invisible force the same as his bullets. A wave of The Spectre’s hand and the bullets melted, dripping onto the carpet. “ **Vincenzo Capelli,** ” The Spectre said. “ **You are guilty of many crimes, but you will receive a stay of execution, for I wish there to be a witness to tonight’s events so that others know of what happens here. Fail in this, and you will suffer before the end.** ” The Spectre turned to face Hunt. “ **Adam Hunt.** ”

“W-What do you want?” Hunt asked, frightened at the sheer force of this powerful being that he had only heard rumors about from his contacts in the S.C.P.D. He had figured he was safe from vigilantes since The Canary was focused on the Russians’ operations in the Glades and The Spectre only went after _real_ bad guys, or so he had been told. Apparently, his contacts were wrong. “I swear, I’ve done nothing against the law.”

“ **Your schemes may not be against human laws, Adam Hunt, but you have caused untold suffering with them nonetheless,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **Over three hundred people have died as a result of your actions. Others still suffer fates worse than death, exiled to the streets because they lost everything to your schemes. You may have only schemed to continue building your fortune, but you are guilty of those deaths as assuredly as if you had killed them yourself or were conducting the orchestra of their misfortunes. You must pay for your crimes, Hunt.** ”

“Y-You can’t! I haven’t broken the law!” Hunt all but wailed. “You can’t kill me because some slack-jawed idiots didn’t read the fine print!”

“ **Kill you?** ” The Spectre mused. “ **Who said I was going to _kill_ you? No, I have a fate much worse than death in store for you, Hunt. You will be disfigured beyond recognition, struck dumb so as to not be able to communicate, and exiled to a third-world country of my choosing where you will be reviled and spat upon, where when you hear a child telling their mother to look at the freak, you’ll know it is you that they speak of. You have caused mental, emotional, and physical suffering to your victims before death finally claimed them. So, shall it be with you.**” The Spectre floated forward, Hunt backing away futilely, and then gripped Hunt’s arms in his strong grip. Hunt wailed as his skin began to shift and tear, blood oozing from the wounds that opened and slowly healed, wailing as burns seared their way across his flesh. Within a minute, a vaguely human-looking figure was slumped wailing in the grip of The Spectre, who released him and then banished him to the country of Vlatava with a wave of his hand. There, Hunt would find no mercy, for such disfigurements meant the person must be shunned in that province. **_*2*_**

The Spectre turned to face the bodyguard. “ **Remember my words, Vincenzo Capelli,** ” The Spectre said. “ **Share what you have seen and heard with all who will hear it.** ” The Spectre leaned forward and placed two fingers on Capelli’s forehead, a white light shining out from between the fingers and forehead before the bodyguard dropped to the ground.

The Spectre looked to the south. He could sense her out there, planning her next move, and despite himself, he wanted to see her, to see that she was alright despite knowing he had healed her. The Spectre took one step forward and shifted onto the rooftop where The Canary was crouched, looking over a warehouse. “ **Back at it already?** ” The Spectre asked, and The Canary jumped slightly at hearing his voice. She turned and faced him as he floated forward. “ **I would have thought you’d let yourself heal a bit more. I did what I could, but the healing still needs time to settle.** ”

“ _Guess that explains the pain when I brushed my fingers over it,_ ” The Canary said. “ _Thank you. For saving my life. Those Russians had me dead to rights. I don’t wanna know what Leonov would’ve done to me if he was able to go through with his threats._ ”

“ **He is no longer a problem,** ” The Spectre said. “ **I destroyed him after he stabbed you.** ”

“ _Yeah, I might’ve been out of it, but that, I noticed,_ ” The Canary said dryly. “ _Wish you could’ve changed my clothes to something less obvious when you dropped me off at my place, though. I’m grateful for what you did, but now my entire family knows what I do._ ”

“ **I’m sorry,** ” The Spectre said after a moment. “ **If you would like, I can take that knowledge from them, give you peace as penance for putting you in that position.** ”

The Canary considered the offer before shaking her head. “ _No,_ ” she said softly. “ _I need to deal with this my way. And going back to lying to them doesn’t seem right now that they know the truth. It’s just inconvenient is all._ ”

“ **I understand,** ” The Spectre said softly. “ **I fear revealing myself to those I care about because of how they would react to how I’ve changed from the person they knew.** ”

“ _How long has it been since you last saw those you love?_ ” The Canary asked.

“ **Over a decade, though they’ve always been with me in my heart,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **In truth, I doubt I’ll share my true nature with them. They wouldn’t understand what I am now, what I’ve become. There are very few who could.** ” The Spectre turned to look at The Canary from under the hood of his robes. “ **You are such a person, Sara Lance.** ”

“ _H-How do you know my name?_ ” The Canary stuttered out, turning to face The Spectre fully and backing away from him slightly, on edge that a complete stranger knew who she was.

For a moment, The Spectre stared at her. Then, coming to a decision, he dismissed his robes, and Oliver Queen stared into Sara’s shocked, masked face. “Because you know mine,” Oliver said softly.

“ _O-Ollie?_ ” The Canary said weakly, moving forward and reaching out a hand to touch Oliver, to make sure he was real. She brushed her fingers over his bearded left cheek, pressed a hand against his chest and felt his beating heart, pinched his arm to make sure he was actually corporeal. “ _How is this possible? No, wait, not right now. I-I need to focus on getting the message to the Russians that I’m still around. We can talk back at my hideout. You know the clock tower in the Glades?_ ” Oliver nodded, lips twitching as he realized some things were the same between universes. “ _I’ll meet you there._ ”

“Or I can just wait for you to finish here, and transport us both there,” Oliver offered.

“ _Maybe,_ ” The Canary said reluctantly before turning to face the warehouse again, centering herself and preparing herself for the conflict to come. Once she sent the message she came here to do, she would get her answers about Oliver and his being The Spectre. She tried really hard not to remember her conversation with her mother about who The Spectre had been when her mother knew him, and how he had become The Spectre.

Oliver stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sara, you’re not in the right mindset to do this, not tonight,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to build up the courage to tell you, or anyone, that I was alive for weeks. But I just never found the right time and I wanted to do it before I lost the battle in my mind again.”

“You’re right, my head’s not in the game,” Sara admitted, peeling her mask off of her face and shutting off her voice modulator. “Let’s go back to my hideout and have that chat.”

Oliver offered his arm, and despite herself, Sara grinned. “Always the gentleman,” she teased, and Oliver’s lips quirked up despite himself. Sara took his arm, and with one step, they were in her hideout in the clock tower. Sara pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down in one, Oliver taking the other. “So, I guess the big question is how you became The Spectre?” Sara asked. “My Mom told me about one that she had known, Jim Corrigan. Said he had been killed by mobsters.”

“I died of natural causes, namely starvation after a bad winter on Lian Yu,” Oliver said. “That’s the island I ended up on after the _Gambit_ went down. It’s Mandarin, for purgatory.” He decided he would ease into the whole _Amazo_ thing.

“So, how did you become The Spectre if you died of natural causes?” Sara asked.

“Because The Spectre is chosen not for how they died, but for how they lived,” Oliver said. “While many of the years on the island were spent simply trying to survive, other years were spent fighting. Twice I found myself fighting agents of H.I.V.E., and another time I was fighting a neo-Nazi cult that were looking for an idol of great power on the island. The Spectre stands against tyranny and evil, and both H.I.V.E. and Shadowspire count as those.” _Not to mention all my battles in the universe that existed before this one,_ Oliver thought to himself, remembering several of those battles being fought by the woman sitting in front of him as well, albeit a different version of her. But what he had seen of The Canary told him that she would be just as likely to fight by his side if those battles came in this world. Because that was who Sara Lance was, a fighter and survivor, just like him, no matter what world she hailed from. **_*3*_**

“Wow, Ollie, and I thought I had it bad with the Russians,” Sara said, shaking her head. “I’ve heard rumors about H.I.V.E. and Shadowspire while I was traveling, and they certainly don’t sound like they’re the kind of people anyone wants to deal with.”

“They’re not,” Oliver agreed. “Fighting them cost a lot, but it was the right thing to do.”

“Always knew there was more to you than the playboy,” Sara said playfully.

“Yeah, well, you weren’t the only one,” Oliver said. “Even though I know what we had was shallow, Laurel did know I was better than I pretended to be. Not surprised you did, too.”

“Thanks,” Sara said softly. “So, what now?”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.

“How do you plan on announcing you’re back? I figure you gotta do that eventually,” Sara said. “And, uh, if you died, does everything work properly?”

“I’m still as vital as ever, Sara,” Oliver said dryly, giving her a dirty smirk. She flushed at him catching her meaning so easily.

“I meant do you need to eat and all that?” she said snappishly, trying to cover up the real question and trying desperately to fight her blush.

“The power of The Spectre sustains me, but yes, I can eat, and the digestion process is the same,” Oliver replied. “I’m still human. I just can’t be killed by normal means. It would take a serious degree of magic to even begin to weaken me, to be honest.”

“How do you know I won’t just tell Batman and Superman that?” Sara asked.

“Because I know you have your own issues with their little ‘law’,” Oliver said dryly. “Now, as to your question about how I plan on announcing I’m back, I haven’t given it as much thought as I should have. I’ve been focusing mainly on being The Spectre and living out of a motel room. But the funds I have aren’t exactly infinite and I’m gonna have to approach my family eventually. I’m just… worried about it. It’s been thirteen years. Will they even want me in their lives again after so long?”

“Ollie, how can you even think that they wouldn’t?” Sara asked. “Your parents and sister still mourn for you. Hell, so do Tommy, Laurel, and I. You were an important part of all of our lives. For so long, going to the mansion after the _Gambit_ sank was like stabbing ourselves in the chest with a knife. They would want you back in their lives, Ollie. You just have to give them the chance to do so.”

“I don’t know if I’m brave enough to approach them on my own,” Oliver admitted. “I’ve been debating since I came back to Star City what to do and I still can’t decide one way or another.”

Sara was silent for a moment before she came to a decision. “Would it help if I came with you?” Sara asked softly. Oliver looked up in surprise. “I figure it might help having someone there who already knows and who can keep you grounded until the shock wears off for both you and your family. Besides, I’m in no great hurry to go back home. I’m sure Dad and Laurel are camped outside my building, waiting to ambush me with more sanctimonious lectures about how we don’t need to go outside of the law to find justice.”

“I would appreciate that,” Oliver said, tilting his head to the right, eyes narrowing. “But we appear to have uninvited guests.”

Sara turned around sharply and found herself face-to-face with Batman. Superman was entering the clock tower as well. “What the hell are you two doing here?” she asked sharply.

“ ** _We came to speak to you about The Spectre,_** ” Batman replied just as sharply. “ ** _Didn’t expect to find him waiting for us._** ”

“Did you know they were listening?” Sara asked Oliver.

“Yes,” he said. “But this is a confrontation that was going to happen no matter what. Better for it to happen in a controlled environment than elsewhere, for all of our sakes.”

“ ** _You’re coming back to Gotham to answer for your crimes,_** ” Batman declared, looking at Oliver with a deadly glare. Sara instinctively moved between the two of them, protecting her friend. “ ** _Move out of the way, Miss Lance._** ”

“No,” Sara said stubbornly. “All he’s done is do what you’re too much of a coward to do. The Joker and the rest of those bastards are, excuse me, _were_ irredeemable psychopaths and you’ve caught them dozens of times and they’ve escaped dozens of times, killing more innocents before being caught again. It was about time someone did this world a favor and got rid of them, no matter how brutal and violent you think it was.”

“Sara, we have to let the law run it’s natural course,” Superman said patiently. “Under the laws of Gotham, The Joker and the others this man murdered are criminally insane and cannot be held accountable for their actions. They must be rehabilitated before any justice can be dispensed.”

“They’d have never been rehabilitated, and in the process more innocent lives would’ve been lost until someone did what Oliver was willing to do,” Sara said hotly. “I’ve chafed under your hypocritical rules for two years now; well, I’m tired of it. You’ve been so caught up in your own sense of superiority you’ve forgotten about the innocent people caught in the crossfire whenever one of those freaks escaped and caused more havoc. I’m doing things _my way_ from now on, and if that leads to me killing someone like Anatoli Knyasev, I’ll go to sleep with a clear conscience.” Oliver hid his reaction at the mention of his old friend’s name, knowing in this new world their relationship was potentially very different depending on how Anatoli saw his destruction of the purified Mirakuru.

“ ** _This debate is pointless,_** ” Batman said stubbornly. “ ** _Mr. Queen will be coming with us to face justice._** ”

“As I told you in Gotham, _Mr. Wayne,_ I _am_ Justice,” Oliver replied coolly as he stood. Sara’s eyes widened at Oliver identifying who was under the cowl, and the slight widening of Batman’s eyes told her that Oliver’s assertion for who was under the cowl was accurate. “What you and Mr. Kent here fail to recognize is that I answer to a power greater than either of you could comprehend. The Voice, or God as it’s known to most of mankind, imbued me with the powers of The Spectre, to serve as it’s Hand in matters of justice, and I will exhaust myself in this charge. I will not bend to the will of mortal men such as yourselves, and if you attempt to take me by force, I promise you, you will regret it.”

“And how do you see that?” Superman asked mildly, keeping his paranoid friend from reacting.

“It’s quite simple,” Oliver said. “Say I were to allow you to take me in. You would have to _prove_ that I am who you say I am. You cannot just claim I am The Spectre without proof, and before you say it, Mr. Wayne, I scrambled the devices you deployed to record my conversation with Sara as soon as they were activated. You have no proof. I, on the other hand, can point out the startling resemblance Superman has to Clark Kent and suggest that those interested in seeing Batman brought to justice for his own brutal methods of fighting crime check the caverns beneath Wayne Manor, providing ample proof to the world that Superman is Clark Kent and Batman is Bruce Wayne.”

“ ** _And you expect us to just leave, to let you keep murdering your way through those who deserve a chance at redemption?_** ” Batman rasped out, unnerved by the way Oliver Queen so casually threatened their exposures.

Oliver smiled. “I don’t consider it murder, but a form of absolute justice,” he said. “Especially for those with multiple deaths to their name. Now, I don’t always kill those I bring down. Why just tonight, I sentenced Adam Hunt to a life of disfigured poverty for what he had caused to happen with his schemes to build his fortune. By rights, I should have killed him for the 320 people who have died as a result of his actions, but I decided that he should suffer the pain, humiliation, and degradation his living victims have suffered under before his life finally ends, be it at his own hands or the hands of someone who chooses to put the miserable creature he has become out of its misery.” Oliver stepped forward, around Sara, putting a calming hand on the woman’s shoulder to show he was alright. “I suggest you seek out the counsel of John Constantine and Zatanna Zatara, ask them about what I have said here today about what I am and where my directives come from, before attempting to confront me again. This time, you will receive a warning. The next time, I _act_ to protect my interests.” Oliver waved a hand, and the two self-righteous superheroes vanished in the blink of an eye. **_*4*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* This came about as a result of my not wanting Oliver to completely abandon what made him, in my opinion, the greatest hero of the Arrowverse: his compassion for the little guy caught in the crossfire. While we didn’t see as much of it in later seasons once they started rolling out villains like Ra’s, Darhk, and Prometheus, we *did* see Oliver and his team tackling things like Stardust, which directly affected Star City’s low-income residents in the Glades. So he never really lost it; it just became something we didn’t see a lot of focus on. It helps that the consequences of schemes like Hunt’s can lead to serious consequences for the victims and that could lead to scenarios like I spelled out here. While The Spectre probably normally doesn’t involve himself in these kinds of crimes, I feel a Spectre who is Oliver Queen *would*.
> 
> *2* I am finding it interesting coming up with different ways for The Spectre to exact justice and coming up with a way to punish the indirect consequences of the actions of men like Hunt is going to be an interesting challenge.
> 
> *3* Now, based on what I know of The Spectre and the appearance in “Crisis”, I’m guessing that you actually do have to die valiantly, but for the sake of this story it’s how the person lived and fought against tyranny and evil that makes them a candidate, not how they died. Also, wanted to acknowledge that while this Sara isn’t the one he knew, she’s pretty damn close.
> 
> *4* I do love writing Oliver with his devil may care attitude when it comes to Batman and Superman. He gives absolutely no shits about these two and their high-and-mighty, holier than thou attitude and makes no apologies for it. 


	8. Contemplations

The clock tower was silent in the aftermath of the forced departure of Batman and Superman. Oliver stood silently, musing over how long it would be before he was forced to deal with the two self-righteous heroes again, while Sara took a seat. She had known that with The Spectre, with _Oliver_ now at work in the world that there would be a paradigm shift away from the status quo that had existed for fifteen years, but she hadn’t expected to be there when the paradigm shift actually revealed itself. Batman and Superman would have to acknowledge that The Spectre was far beyond anything they had ever dealt with before, in Sara’s opinion, and that would keep them from interfering in The Spectre’s affairs for the time being. It might even keep them from interfering with her, The Vigilante, and anyone else who chose to go to extreme lengths to ensure justice was done. “What did you do to them?” Sara finally asked.

“Hmm?” Oliver hummed questioningly.

“Well, way I see it, you didn’t just wipe them from existence, though I’m guessing you could have if you really wanted to,” Sara said. Oliver said nothing, and Sara didn’t push on that front. All would be revealed in time, she felt. “So, I figure you did something with them. Did you send them to Antarctica to chill out or something?”

Oliver’s lips twitched at the thought. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“You have a penchant for poetic or ironic justice, Ollie,” Sara said pointedly. “You showcased that when you killed Joker, and the Triad, and apparently Adam Hunt, so I’m sure you’ll do it again in the future. I think sending those two to Antarctica would be right up your alley, especially since Superman could get them out of there long before they froze to death.”

“Nothing so extreme,” Oliver finally said. “I sent them back to their own lairs. I _did_ disintegrate Batman’s cowl to prove a point, though, since I suspect he’ll be the one who pushes things. Knowing I can expose him any time I wish, and not just with words, will make Bruce Wayne think twice about coming after me directly. I suspect he’ll try an indirect approach the next time or adopt a wait and see approach.”

“You know, I can’t believe Bruce Wayne is Batman,” Sara said, shaking her head. “Though I guess that explains how he can afford all those gadgets and suit upgrades he’s got.” She grimaced as she fingered her patch job on the top part of her Canary uniform. “Wish I had that kind of resource.” Oliver looked at the uniform Sara was wearing, doing his best not to linger too long on the exposed tops of her breasts. His hand stretched out and it glowed. He waved it over Sara, a light flooding from his hand and encompassing her entire uniform, which glowed a brilliant blue before returning to its normal black. Oliver lowered his hand. “What was that?” Sara asked questioningly. She had noticed how he had given her breasts a brief glance and then looked away quickly, focusing on her uniform, and her heart rate quickened. Was it possible that there could be something between them? Was it even right since it had been thirteen years since they had last seen each other?

Oliver, unaware of Sara’s internal debate, said, “I’ve fortified your suit. It’s as strong as titanium but as flexible as spider silk now. Should give you an edge and make sure no one can stab you in the back like Leonov did again.”

“Thanks,” Sara said, touched that Oliver would do something like this for her simply because she had mentioned the fact that she didn’t have Batman’s resources.

“That’s not going to stop someone from putting a knife through your exposed chest, though,” Oliver added, gesturing to her chest. “I’m guessing you’re doing it like this for a reason, but that’s a tactical disadvantage. And last I checked a woman’s breasts are among the most sensitive parts of their body. If someone wanted to draw your focus, all they would need to do is aim an attack there. I can do the same thing for any upgraded uniform that I did for this one.” Oliver’s expression softened. “I just got you back in my life, Sara. I don’t want to lose you to a gangster’s knife or a mobster’s bullet.”

Sara’s expression was soft as she put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “I’ll think about it, Ollie,” she said. “In the meantime, we should probably get back to what we were talking about before the dynamic duo showed up.” Oliver raised an eyebrow. “You talking with your family,” she reminded him.

“Oh. Right,” Oliver said softly. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that step just yet, Sara. And the truth is, I wonder if it would even be a good idea. I’m The Spectre. That means I cannot stand by and countenance any kind of injustice. If I see that at work in my own family, what am I supposed to do?” Sara hesitated for a moment, her mind flashing back to her conversation with her father. Oliver noticed this and frowned. “What is it?”

Sara sighed. “Look, I don’t know anything for sure,” Sara said. “But your Dad’s made a lot of budget cuts to the police force, and that’s left the Glades pretty much defenseless. The few cops that still work at the Glades precinct are either the laziest of the bunch or are on the take, so there’s really no such thing as justice here. That’s why I’m The Canary.”

“I understand,” Oliver said, musing over what Sara had told him. Crime was being allowed to fester in the Glades, aid was being cut off from the people there… this was all very familiar. But if the Undertaking _was_ happening and his family _was_ a part of it, the question that rose up was _why_? Rebecca Merlyn was alive. So was Mia. So why- Oliver froze, and Sara shot him a concerned look which he ignored, because he had just realized what the catalyst for the Undertaking in this new world, if it was happening at all, probably was. It was _him_ ; he was the catalyst. The Triad operated primarily out of the Glades, always had; they had been behind the _Gambit_ sinking and his presumed death at sea.

“Ollie? What is it?” Sara asked.

“Just something occurred to me, is all,” Oliver said quickly. “I guess the only way I’m going to figure things out for sure is if I reveal myself, get back into everyone’s lives. And I would appreciate the company, if your offer is still on the table.”

“You can stay at my place tonight and we can go over to the mansion first thing in the morning,” Sara said. “Just give me a few minutes to change. We’ll take my bike.” Oliver nodded, understanding that Sara didn’t want to get stuck at the Queen Mansion after the reunion since he wouldn’t be able to transport her back here if they traveled his way. He stood and looked out at the Glades through the clockface, musing over the potential Undertaking and how he could put a stop to it. Now that he had actually committed to his new life and allowed the emotional connections to his memories to push through the fog of his mind, the possibility of having to judge his own family was heartbreaking. But he knew that, if it came down to it, that is precisely what he would do. Because that was who he was; he was The Spectre, the judge, jury, and executioner of absolute justice. **_*1*_**

He turned back as Sara walked out from behind the sheet she had been changing behind, dressed in a casual outfit of jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket; all black, naturally. “Black is definitely your color,” Oliver said, giving her a once-over. She grinned at him and the two left the tower, heading down to where Sara kept her bike while she was patrolling the Glades. “Weren’t you concerned about your family being camped outside of your building?”

“While it’s a possibility, there’s a chance they aren’t,” Sara said with a shrug. She picked up her helmet, then looked at Oliver, who shrugged and waved a hand. A helmet shimmered into existence. “Handy,” Sara said.

“It’s only temporary,” Oliver said, strapping the helmet on and getting behind Sara on the bike. She turned it on and pulled away from the clock tower, heading back towards downtown Star City.

**_*DC*_ **

Bruce Wayne twitched at the sound of a cloak fluttering and whirled in place, a batarang up and ready, only to stop in place and then relax as he realized the sound that he had heard had just been the cape of his newest protégé, Tim Drake, as he practiced his landing from a gliding position. Tim, currently fourteen and already possessing the ‘I know all’ attitude of teenagers everywhere, raised his eyebrows and said, “Paranoid much, Bruce?”

“You would be to if that goddamn spook had gotten one up over you,” Bruce grumbled to himself, turning back around and forcing himself to relax. Ever since the encounter with Oliver Queen and Sara Lance in Star City a couple of hours ago, he had been on edge, expecting Queen to renege on his word and reveal the truth about Bruce’s identity to the world. Bruce had seen the disdain Queen had for him, and for Clark; this was the first time they had encountered someone with powers and a code that rivaled their own, and who could stand toe-to-toe with Clark and walk away with a win rather than a draw without the use of Kryptonite or a red solar grenade. Clark had been rather subdued when he got back in contact with Bruce earlier, suggesting they do exactly as The Spectre had suggested and contact Constantine and Zatanna, learn what they could about who he was and the source of his power.

Bruce didn’t believe for one minute that ‘God’ had anything to do with it. Queen had obviously been tricked by a fifth-dimensional being of some sort, as those beings had powers that could be considered ‘god-like’. He had certainly been imbued with power, somehow, and that power had to be coming from a fifth-dimensional source. If they could figure out the source of The Spectre’s power, they could figure out how to cut it off and capture The Spectre, bring him to justice for all the murders he had committed since popping up on the radar a couple of weeks ago.

They had to find a way to control this man, to punish him for his crimes. Chaos would reign if people learned there was someone who was more powerful than Clark and whose morality wasn’t as clearly defined as both Clark’s and his own. They had instituted the rules for a reason, and Bruce would be damned if he allowed anyone to flaunt it, whether that be the powerhouse that The Spectre represented or that snide little girl, The Canary, who had been doing this for all of two years and thought she knew everything about what it meant to defend and safeguard a city. Neither she nor her _friend_ knew what it meant to do that; he and Clark did. They _would_ respect the rules; he would allow no other outcome. **_*2*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Clark Kent was standing out on the balcony of his and Lois’ apartment as his fiancé came out to stand beside him. “Hey, you’ve been out here for hours, ever since you got back from Star City,” Lois said softly. “What happened?”

“Batman and I went to apprehend The Spectre, take him back to Gotham to face justice for what he did to The Joker and the others,” Clark said. Lois scoffed; he frowned at her but said nothing. They had already argued about the merits of Batman’s desire to rehabilitate the likes of The Joker. “We went to see Sara for local intel. Turns out The Spectre was there in his civilian identity. He’s Oliver Queen. And… he defeated us both. With a single wave of his hand, he sent us back to the Batcave and the Fortress. He could have destroyed us with that same wave of his hand; I _know_ he could have,” Clark said emphatically. “I’ve never come up against anyone who was more powerful than I am, Lois. Queen is like nothing I’ve ever faced. I don’t know if we could beat him even if we discovered the source of his power.”

“Maybe you’re not meant to treat him as an enemy, Clark,” Lois said softly. Clark looked up at her, surprised. “Have you bothered to read what other people are saying about The Spectre, or have you started to believe your own writings? The general feel from people in both Star City and Gotham is one of relief that there is someone out there who won’t let people like The Joker wander free. There are people here in Metropolis who are running scared at the idea that The Spectre could turn his attention here, next. And your cousin doesn’t seem to share your opinion about The Spectre.”

“What?” Clark said, astounded. Lois pulled a tablet from her robe and handed it to him. Clark took it and read the article, written by his cousin in her new position as a reporter for CatCo Worldwide Media, which was titled _The Spectre: A New Era?_ He slumped against the railing, Lois saving the tablet as it threatened to fall from his fingertips, as his mind swirled with what he had read. Kara, sweet, kind-hearted Kara, had written an article that, while not a complete puff piece on The Spectre, had certainly not been the scathing condemnation that Clark would have expected, like the one he had written for the _Daily Planet_. He noted, vaguely, that the article had been shared more and viewed more than his own, something that he was sure Cat Grant was rubbing in Perry White’s nose. But he couldn’t get the words out of his head: _Perhaps this is the result of a world that has followed the leads of Batman and Superman for fifteen years, an attempt by the world to balance the power of the world’s influencers._ His _cousin_ had written that.

“I think Kara and I need to have a talk,” Clark said quietly.

“Not tonight,” Lois said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I showed you her article to get you to calm down and think about this. The moment The Spectre made his debut, the world changed, and both you and Batman are trying to hold onto the old regime. That regime died the instant The Spectre killed The Joker. This is a new world, Clark. You need to figure out how to change with it, or you’ll be considered a relic of a bygone age.” **_*3*_**

**_*DC*_ **

The source of the concern of the world’s two most premier heroes was currently preparing for a reunion that, in this world, was thirteen years in the making, following Sara Lance towards the front door of the familiar silhouette of the Queen Mansion from her bike. Oliver wiped his palms on his pants, going over the story he was going to tell. He had hailed a fishing trawler, and then worked his way across the ocean on cargo freighters until he arrived in Star City, at which point he had debated whether or not to approach anyone from his old life, studying them, figuring out if there was a place for him in this new world that they had built for themselves.

Oliver and Sara reached the front door the mansion a little too soon for Oliver’s liking, but there was no helping it. Sara rang the bell and stood waiting, nervous as Oliver. She hadn’t seen the Queens since Sunday dinner, and she had never come to the mansion on her own like this since Oliver had ‘died’ thirteen years ago. Even though it was just to be there for Oliver while he reunited with his family, it made Sara nervous. She had shied away from getting involved with the Queens and Merlyns as heavily as her father and sister had, so doing something like this was completely out of her comfort zone.

The door opened, and Raisa stood framed in the doorway. “Miss Sara, this is a surprise,” the motherly Russian said kindly. “The family’s just sat down for breakfast. I can see if they…” she trailed off as she realized Sara wasn’t alone. She turned to look at the man standing beside the younger woman, examining his features, and a moment later her hand went to her mouth in shock. “Mr. Oliver?” she whispered in mystified hope. “Is-Is that you?”

“Hello, Raisa,” Oliver said warmly, stepping up and taking the maid’s hands in his own. “It’s good to see you again.” A moment later, the maid had put her arms around Oliver and was hugging him, weeping in relief. She had seen the Queen children, Tommy, and even the Lance sisters as surrogates since she had no family of her own. Raisa eventually pulled away.

“My apologies, Mr. Oliver,” Raisa said.

“It’s alright, Raisa,” Oliver said soothingly. “May we come in?”

“This is your home, Mr. Oliver,” Raisa reminded him, stepping aside. “You and any guest you have are always welcome.” Oliver and Sara entered the mansion, and Oliver was hit by a wave of nostalgia. In another life, he had been in this same place when Sara, dressed in an outfit almost the same as the one she was wearing now, arrived with the rest of his team to help him safeguard his family from Slade Wilson, who had ingratiated himself into his mother’s life. Raisa led them through the mansion towards the dining room. She stepped just inside the door, centering herself, and entered.

“Who was at the door, Raisa?” Oliver heard his father ask.

“Miss Lance, with a most important guest, Mr. Queen,” Raisa said deferentially. “I felt you would want to see them at once. Mrs. Queen and Miss Queen, as well.”

“Well, then, show them in,” Moira said. Raisa turned and gestured for Oliver and Sara to come forward. Sara moved forward, but Oliver stopped just out of sight, fear gripping him. Sara turned back, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes, and took his hand.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I’m with you.” Slowly, she pulled him out of the shadows and into the light of the dining room.

Oliver knew the instant that recognition set in for his family. His father dropped the coffee he had been drinking, the brown liquid staining the white linen table cloth. Moira’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, tears filling her eyes, and Mia was wavering from side to side, as though she were going to faint. Oliver cleared his throat and said softly, “Hi.”

“O-Ollie?” Mia choked out.

“Yeah,” Oliver said quietly. “It’s me.”

“Where-How-?” Moira Queen was at a loss for words. “Sara, where did you find him?”

“He found me last night, after my shift at the Clinic,” Sara said. “I spent most of the night convincing him to come here this morning. He didn’t think anyone would want him in their lives after thirteen years. It took some doing to convince him that everyone would.”

“Of _course,_ we want him back,” Robert said shakily, standing and moving toward his son. “Thank you, Sara. Thank you for convincing him to come back to us. Please let your family know that Oliver is back, will you?”

“I will,” Sara said quietly, knowing a dismissal when she heard it. She put a comforting hand on Oliver’s shoulder for a moment before turning and leaving. Oliver reached out to her briefly, as though to stop her from going, but then pulled his hand back. He needed to face this without a safety net. He needed to be able to deal with his family and friends on his own without Sara there to hold his hand through the process. He turned back to face his family.

“I suppose we should talk,” Oliver said quietly, “though I understand that you might all have plans.”

“The good thing about being in our positions is we can decide when we go in,” Robert said, putting a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. “This is more important. _You_ are more important.” After a moment, Oliver nodded and followed his family towards the sitting room and the emotional discussion that was sure to follow.

**_*DC*_ **

Anatoli Knyasev set the phone down on the desk, leaning back in his leather chair and drumming his fingers on the surface of the desk. Alexi Leonov was dead. The man had been a loyal ally, stalwart in his support of Anatoli’s vision for Bratva, a vision that was now threatened, at least in Star City, by the actions of The Canary. The threat may even be greater than that, for the new power in the world, The Spectre, had potentially saved the bitch’s life before obliterating Leonov with a literal snap of his fingers.

When Anatoli had seized control of the Bratva, it had been a divisive band of gangsters who followed their own agendas. Anatoli had seized power by gaining the support of the captains before crushing Ishamael Gregor’s skull between his hands, claiming the leadership of the Bratva for himself and sending his captains out to begin enforcing his will. Many who had been against the shift in policy had died, but now the Bratva followed Anatoli’s vision, to be a rival to the Italian scum who had long considered them little more than ill-educated brutes. They were closing in on that and now that vision was being threatened by the bitch in Starling City and her new friend.

Anatoli rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, imagining having the woman’s throat in his hands, crushing the life slowly from her body, watching her writhe in place with a broken windpipe, slowly suffocating. Oh, yes, that would be very satisfying; it had been too long since he took direct action, wanting to come off as an equal in sophistication to his Italian counterparts. But the future of the Bratva was above even his personal desires; and so, he would reach out to an old friend to settle this score, someone who could do as he desired to as easily as he could, for they shared the same brute strength.

Anatoli picked up his phone again and dialed the number he had for Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke the Terminator. **_*4*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Whenever something was troubling his wife, her brow furrowed just like it was now, and Tommy Merlyn was concerned. Laurel had been different ever since she had called him with such a snappish tone when she cancelled lunch with him and the guy from her office that she hoped to set Sara up with. Now, as she sat across from him at Table Salt, she was frowning in that way told him that something was deeply troubling her. “Laurel, what’s going on?” Tommy asked. Laurel looked up at him, green eyes startled, as though she had just realized that she wasn’t alone at the table. “You’ve been distant ever since you cancelled lunch yesterday. What’s going on with you and Sara?”

“Sara? Who said this has anything to do with Sara? Maybe I’m just going through something,” Laurel said nervously, looking around the restaurant as though expecting people to be leaning their ears in the directions of the Merlyns’ table, eavesdropping on Star City’s District Attorney and the Vice President of Special Projects at Merlyn Global. “I don’t know what you mean,” Laurel tacked on, focusing on her menu.

Tommy reached over and snagged the menu from her slender hands, forcing her to look at him. “You’re a terrible liar, Laurel,” Tommy said, and Laurel flushed. “What’s going on?”

“Not here,” Laurel said firmly. “Too many ears.”

“Alright,” Tommy said, standing, and Laurel followed him, which did earn them a few curious looks since they had just arrived. The maître d wandered up, asking if everything was alright. “We’re just not feeling up to lunch after all,” Tommy assured the man. “Nothing wrong with the cuisine here. We love it, in fact.” The man’s worries about his restaurant’s business reassured, Tommy and Laurel left the restaurant and returned to their car (Tommy had picked Laurel up from work). Once ensconced in their car, Tommy turned in his seat to face his wife. “Okay, Laurel, spill,” he said. “What the hell is going on?”

“What do you think of vigilantes, like The Canary or Batman?” Laurel asked in return.

Tommy frowned at the direction the conversation had taken. “Is this about Sara supporting The Canary?” Laurel was silent, and Tommy sighed. “Look, I don’t pretend to be an expert on anything related to justice, that’s always been you and your dad’s department,” he said. “But whether we like it or not, people like The Canary seem to be here to stay. Better to work with them, I say, so you know what they’re up to instead of getting blindsided. Why?”

Laurel hesitated for a moment, but in the end, she couldn’t keep lying to her husband. “Because Sara’s The Canary.” **_*5*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* The thing about Oliver, throughout the series, is that while he occasionally let his personal feelings over something cloud his judgment, he always did the right thing in the end. Even when he was angry at Dig for bugging his mother, he listened to the recording and confronted her afterward as The Hood. And I feel Oliver would bring that same sort of attitude to his work as The Spectre.
> 
> *2* The thing about Batman and Superman on Earth-Prime is that for fifteen years, no one has CHALLENGED them on this sort of thing, and it’s gonna take a little while before they realize they’re not the biggest kids on the playground anymore.
> 
> *3* This is going to come back and haunt Lois, in a way. You’ll see what I mean when the story gets to that point. *grins mysteriously*
> 
> *4* I hope everyone enjoyed the look into Anatoli’s mindset as the head of the Bratva in this new world. He’s very different from the Anatoli we all know and love, isn’t he? And look, he’s bringing in Slade. Dear, oh dear…
> 
> *5* And now Tommy knows.


	9. Paradigm Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is just a gentle reminder, but *please* do not bash Laurel or Quentin because they’re currently in an antagonistic position. I happen to like Laurel and Quentin as much as I do Sara, and having people bash them just to prop up Sara makes me not want to write this story very much. It’s the same kind of bullshit the Olicity fans pull to prop up their fave and I want no part in it.

That evening, Oliver laid back on his bed in the Queen Mansion for the first time in years, whether he looked at it through the lens of Earth-1 or Earth-Prime. The reunion with his family had gone well, he reflected, though he still had no idea if his family were involved in something untoward or if his father’s actions with the budget cuts to the police department were simply the normal kind of thing and not evidence of sinister plans aimed at the Glades. Oliver knew he could find out the truth in an instant if he embraced his true nature and examined the soul of Robert Queen and all his actions as the beginnings of a Judgment, but once that process was started, there was no stopping it, and Oliver didn’t want to do something like that to his own family. He would if there was no choice, if they were an immediate threat to the people of Star City, but the power of The Spectre knew no differences between the ‘sins’ of a normal businessman or politician and true sins against humanity.

Oliver had told his family that the years had blurred together as he worked to survive the island, and that he had been surprised to find out thirteen years had passed when he finally managed to hail a fishing trawler. He wanted them to think he felt out of place in this new world, a world where there were now others who had taken up mantles of justice beyond Batman and Superman, who had been the only two active heroes when he had vanished. It would allow him to show confusion when necessary, though he wondered how long it would be before all three of the families knew Sara’s secret identity. The Lances all knew by now, and with how similar Earth-Prime Laurel was to the one he had known, the likelihood she would feel comfortable keeping the truth from her husband was low. Tommy was likewise a terrible liar, and from there the information would seep into the rest of the Merlyn family and then the Queen family because of how closely tied they were with the other two families.

Oliver knew that when that happened, his friend could use someone in her corner, and he had every intention of being that person for her, the way she had always supported him in the previous universe. It was the least he could do to honor the memory of the Sara he lost while getting to know the new Sara, because even for his memory of Sara in this world, she was completely different from the girl he had known thirteen years ago, even if she was very like her Earth-1 counterpart. His memories from Earth-Prime were beginning to take prominence, and for Oliver, that was just fine, as it was a sign that he was beginning to accept this was his world now instead of holding onto the vestiges of Earth-1 and those he had lost there.

There had been no talk regarding Oliver’s role in the family company moving forward, and Oliver knew when that happened, it would be an ugly confrontation, because he had no desire to be involved with the company in this new world. He felt that his family’s insistence that he be involved in the company had led to him being sentenced to thirteen years of hell. There was simply no way, with those memories now dominant in his mind, that he could accept joining the company in any capacity. His sister could have it for all he was concerned; it wasn’t for him to lead the company in any capacity or even be a part of it. He had a higher purpose as The Spectre and being involved in the company could lead to a major conflict of interest since he would not accept any form of injustice, and businesses like Queen Industries tended to have a few injustices to their name, usually involving their workforce. Oliver could always pass it off as being someone who had known desperation and being unwilling to put other people in such a position.

They had received a message from the younger Merlyn couple that they would be coming over for dinner tomorrow, and it was likely that the elder Merlyns would be joining them. Oliver was mentally preparing himself for that. Not only would he be facing a married Tommy and Laurel, which he admittedly felt a little weird about even if he had accepted that his relationship with _this_ Laurel had been rather shallow, but he would also be seeing his godmother for the first time in years and a Malcolm who _wasn’t_ a deranged psychopath bent on an act of genocide or twisting Oliver’s sister into the perfect heiress to his madness. There hadn’t been any word from the elder Lances, though Oliver suspected there might be issues in the Lance family regarding the revelation of Sara’s night-time activities.

Speaking of, he was keeping an ‘eye’ on her, specifically her soul. She was back at the clock tower, preparing to head out. He grinned. He wished her the best of luck on her return to the streets of the Glades. He pulled his attention away from her, knowing she wouldn’t like him spying on her like this. He would get the gritty details from her the next time they met and had some privacy. He was sure that she would enjoy having a confidant that she could talk to about her activities as The Canary. He knew what it was like being a lone protector, and he had only been without a confidant for a few weeks when he had been The Hood. Sara had been at this without a confidant in this city for two years. She was made of stronger stuff than most people would think considering the bubbly, compassionate attitude she showed to the world to hide the grim warrior that lurked beneath the surface. He didn’t think he could have done his work as The Hood without a confidant for two years the way she had been doing her work as The Canary. He had to admire her for her tenacity in that regard. **_*1*_**

Oliver sighed, closing his eyes. He would need to give it a few days before he went out as The Spectre again since his family was going to probably be looking in on him throughout the night for at least the first few nights to verify to themselves that he _was_ alive and back in their loving care. He would use his ‘sleeping hours’ to continue processing his remaining grief regarding the destruction of Earth-1 and his family with Felicity, William, and Mia. He wasn’t completely over everything that happened, but he was close, especially now that he was allowing himself to connect with those he loved on this new Earth.

**_*DC*_ **

The Canary, her new bo staff in hand, was once more in the Glades. After a moment of indecision, she had decided to just perform a normal patrol, make sure that she was seen. She would need to build herself back up to confronting the Russians, though with them currently running around headless with the loss of Alexi Leonov, they should be easier pickings than they had been. She definitely needed to pay them back for corralling her like that, making her feel helpless. She hadn’t felt fear like that in nearly fifteen years, since her experience in college. She shook her head violently, trying to get rid of the images that _that_ memory brought up. _You’re not that girl anymore,_ she thought to herself viciously.

The Canary stopped a total of six muggings and one attempted rape during her patrol and began to circle back to her hideout, feeling satisfied. As she headed back, she thought back to this morning and her leaving Oliver to face his family alone. In a way, she felt guilty about leaving him alone like that, but she had also known from Robert’s tone that he wanted this to be a family affair, and regardless of how close the Lances were to the Queens and Merlyns, at the end of the day, she _wasn’t_ family and would have been intruding on a private moment. She swore to herself that she would make it up to him, be an ear for him as he transitioned back into the real world, reconnected with everyone he cared about. It was sure to be jarring for him, after spending thirteen years away from home, not to mention having _died_ and become The Spectre as a reward for his actions in life.

Thoughts of Oliver’s reintegration with her family and the rest of those close to him reminded The Canary of the situation in her own family. When she had called Laurel to tell her the news about Oliver, her older sister had frostily informed her that their father was staying at a hotel following the revelation that his wife was a former vigilante from Gotham known as the Black Canary and her support of Sara. Laurel herself had no idea how she felt after their mother had told her why she had become Black Canary and why Sara was The Canary, the way they felt driven to do something _more_ than talk. The Canary hadn’t asked her sister if she was keeping it a secret; Laurel was a poor liar and anyone who caught her would force the truth out of her with all manner of cajoling. **_*2*_**

She was sure that before the week was out, all three of the families would know her secret and she wondered what Robert Queen’s reaction would be, considering his apathetic attitude towards the plight of the Glades. She would probably be barred from the Queen Mansion, which almost cheered her up since it meant she wouldn’t have to suffer through any further dinner parties. But it would also mean it would be hard for her to visit Oliver and be the friendly ear that he needed. Of course, knowing him, he would just pop by the clock tower whenever he needed to talk. His powers certainly had their perks. She smiled as she ran a hand over her suit. One of the muggers had gotten off a shot at her, and while she had felt the impact, it hadn’t broken through the improvements Oliver had made to her uniform. Yes, there were certainly perks to having powerful friends like Oliver Queen.

A scream pierced through her thoughts and she focused on pinpointing the source of the scream. It had come from the East, she was sure, and she moved in that direction, racing across the rooftops, bo staff held steadily as she leaped between buildings. She came to a stop overlooking a one-way street. A young woman with spiky black hair was being wrestled into a van by men who The Canary recognized as belonging to the Bratva. She grinned viciously and leaped off the building, using her Cry to slow her descent and landing in a crouch. The Russians froze at the sight of their hated adversary as she rose from her crouch, giving them a sadistic grin. “ _I love it when you assholes just serve yourselves up for punishment,_ ” she said cockily and unleashed her Cry on one of the men holding the girl, sending him flying back to collide with a lamppost, which he slid down the base of, groaning.

Instantly, the Russians surged forward, intent on finishing the job that Alexi Leonov had started. The Canary danced into their midst, twirling her bo staff and delivering crippling blows to the backs of their knees, their throats, their jaws, their stomachs, and their sides. The Russians howled in pain (those who were capable of making such sounds, anyways) and The Canary smiled exultantly at the sound. After the last time she had been faced with the Russians, she needed this win. The Canary delivered a punishing blow to the backs of the Russians’ heads with her staff, knocking them out one by one, though one staggered to his feet and threw a clumsy blow at her stomach. She let it hit and smiled when he howled. It looked like that upgrade Ollie had given her didn’t just provide protection; it was like punching actual titanium for those who struck her physically. She was really gonna need to find a way to thank him for giving her that upgrade.

The Canary ducked around the Russian and then caught his throat with her staff, pulling it backward and choking him out until he slumped to the ground, unconscious. She turned to the young woman, who was now sitting on the ground, shaking. The Canary slowly approached the young woman and crouched down in front of her, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “ _You okay?_ ” she asked softly.

“T-They said they were replacing stock you’d freed,” the girl said shakily. “I-I’ve heard of them snatching other girls and women, b-but I never thought…”

“ _It’s alright,_ ” The Canary said soothingly, sitting down beside the girl and pulling her into a one-armed hug. The girl melted into her embrace, turning into her as her whimpering became sobs. “ _It’s alright,_ ” The Canary said again softly. “ _You’re alright, and these bastards won’t be touching anyone anytime soon._ ”

After her brush with death at the hands of Alexi Leonov, she had been feeling a sense of doubt as to whether she should continue, even though Oliver had provided her with protection against another stabbing or shooting. But now she knew she was making the right choice to continue her crusade. The Canary was a symbol of hope for a better future for girls like this, for those victimized by the Russians and all the other gangs in this city. She couldn’t abandon them; they were her people, and they deserved a protector who was dedicated to keeping them safe.

Unknown to The Canary, she had been shadowed since the third mugging. The armored figure watched her from a rooftop three blocks away, examining her with a single cold brown eye. He would continue to trail her back to her hideout and discover her identity. Once he learned who she was when she wasn’t beating up thugs in a bondage outfit and mask, he would make his plans to kill her. Anatoli Knyasev wanted the bitch to suffer a slow, agonizing death for the interference she had given his people here in Star City.

If that was what Knyasev wanted, that was what the bitch would receive. That she was the only defense the victimized and destitute had against the likes of the Bratva mattered not to Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke the Terminator. All that mattered was the fulfillment of the contract he had been issued. He would fulfill that contract to the letter, nothing more or less. That was how he maintained such a diverse client list, despite his association with H.I.V.E. He didn’t get political, just as H.I.V.E. didn’t, using whichever regime was useful to them at the moment to achieve their ends and then washing their hands of them once they had been all used up. Modeling his methods after those who had essentially turned him into the man that he was now was simply good business.

Deathstroke straightened as The Canary stood and helped the girl to her feet. His quarry was about to continue on her way. He was certain she was circling back to her lair. He smiled coldly. According to his information, his quarry had been trained by Batman at one point but possessed none of the Dark Knight’s paranoia and caution. That would be her undoing. Once he had her identity, he would inform Knyasev and confirm how he was to proceed. It was possible Knyasev might have something special in mind depending on who she was beneath the mask and bondage outfit. **_*3*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Batman waited on a rooftop for his contact to arrive. He had grudgingly agreed with Superman’s assertion they should do as Oliver Queen had told them and speak to either John Constantine or Zatanna Zatara about what The Spectre was and where his directives came from. Batman had chosen Zatanna as the one they would speak to since he found Constantine’s flamboyance annoying in the extreme. Zatanna had her own issues, but she knew the score. So now Batman waited on the rooftop of the theater in Gotham that Zatanna was performing at, Superman standing beside him and listening for any trouble that they should be aware of. Batman doubted there would be any; criminals in Gotham had been unusually silent since The Joker and the others had been murdered by The Spectre. He refused to acknowledge that it was likely the criminals didn’t want to draw the eye of The Spectre and his form of judgment, though a small part of him continued to whisper that it was the only explanation for the relative silence.

Finally, the door to the roof opened and Zatanna entered, her sexualized performance outfit not doing anything for either of the heroes standing on the roof. Superman was a one-woman hero and Batman was dedicated to his work, even if he had an on-again, off-again situation going with Catwoman. “So, what’s the big emergency?” Zatanna asked. “You two don’t usually show up wanting _my_ help. What was it you said, Bats? That I should take my magic tricks and stick to the stage where I could befuddle morons and get paid for it?”

“ ** _The Spectre,_** ” Batman said. “ ** _What do you know about him?_** ”

“I know he’s got your panties in a twist over what he did to Joker,” Zatanna said, lips twitching in amusement. “Maybe you should specify what it is you want to know?”

“He told us to ask you or John Constantine about what he is and where his directives come from,” Superman interjected, deciding not to let Batman make the situation worse than it already was. “What can you tell us, Zatanna?”

“The Spectre is an ancient form of justice dating back centuries, long before modern civilization,” Zatanna said, her jovial attitude fading as she focused on educating the two long-term heroes about just what they were on the edge of angering. “It is essentially a spiritual force that is tied to the life of a single individual, usually one who has proven themselves against tyranny, who has passed on. They are resurrected and given the power of The Spectre, imbued with the ability to serve as judge, jury, and executioner. The Spectre is chosen by the being that some know as God, others know as The Presence, and still others know as The Voice. Their directive is to serve as the final avenue of justice where human laws fail or refuse to act.” **_*4*_**

“ ** _What about the source of his power? Can it be cut off?_** ” Batman asked.

Zatanna looked at the man in disbelief. “Bats, The Spectre is the _absolute form of justice,_ ” she said, emphasizing the last few words. “The _only_ thing that weakens The Spectre is they expend too much energy or fight against a powerful-enough magical force.”

“ ** _So, if you and Constantine-_** ”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Bats,” Zatanna said, holding up a hand. “No law-abiding sorcerer is going to go against The Spectre. The only ones who would are the kinds of people you would normally be taking down, like Damien Darhk. If you ally yourself with that bunch out of your vendetta against someone playing in your sandbox, you’ll lose more than your status as a hero. You’ll lose what stays The Spectre’s hand and be judged as any other criminal. The Spectre is the absolute form of justice, and no one in the know, which is the entire magical community, is going to act against him outside a few arrogant warlocks looking to prove they’re the biggest bad-asses in the universe. You’ll never find anyone but villains who are willing to do that. You can’t stop The Spectre. You can’t beat The Spectre. All you can do is stay the hell out of his way and hope you don’t do anything worthy of being judged by him.” Zatanna turned and went back inside, leaving two very troubled heroes behind. **_*5*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Kara Zor-El, aka Supergirl, floated above National City, listening in on the goings-on while considering the recent confrontation that she had had with her cousin over the article she had written that had been more supportive of The Spectre and his actions. Supergirl had considered the situation a great deal before finally writing the article that Cat Grant had asked her to write, wanting a fresh voice to challenge the position the _Daily Planet_ was taking through Clark Kent. Supergirl, of course, knew it wasn’t so much Perry White as her cousin being his typical judgmental self. She had had to sit through a half-hour lecture from him once he recovered from Myriad about how heroes don’t kill once he learned that she had killed Non by burning her heat vision through the older Kryptonian’s eyes.

That wasn’t the first time she had chafed under her cousin’s ‘code’ in the past year since she had started helping people. One of the reasons her Red K rampage, before Alex had hit her with the modified Kryptonite gun to sap the Red K energy and restore her, had been so bad was because she had been chafing under her cousin’s code, something that didn’t jive with her Kryptonian upbringing. She knew that things were different here on Earth, but the aliens she was hunting alongside the D.E.O. were almost all former prisoners of the Phantom Zone, sentenced there for high crimes against the galaxy. They had forfeited their freedom with their actions, and their antics here on Earth showed no hint of remorse, and so Kara had sought permanent solutions where needed.

But now there was a new power in the world, one which was sympathetic to her form of justice, the same form of justice practiced by The Vigilante and The Canary. The Spectre had done what her cousin’s rodent-inspired friend had been unwilling to do for twenty years and end The Joker’s reign of terror. He had also ensured the likes of Harley Quinn, Oswald Cobblepot, Harvey Dent, and Waylon Jones couldn’t continue their sprees or usurp The Joker’s position. The criminals of Gotham were now terrified of a force far beyond Batman. The Spectre was their new boogeyman, and that was a feeling shared by criminals in many more cities than Gotham and Star City. Supergirl had written her article, knowing it would cause her cousin to come and argue her points with her, but for once, she had stood strong against his accusations that she was letting her father’s amorality influence her and told him that all she was doing was practicing justice as Kryptonians had practiced it. Before the Phantom Zone, crimes such as those perpetrated by the likes of The Joker and the aliens Supergirl hunted had had one punishment: execution.

She knew that her cousin had found out who The Spectre was, but he had made a point not to mention a name. No doubt he didn’t want her reaching out and forming an alliance with the new force on the planet the way he had shared an alliance with Batman for fifteen years. Kal simply didn’t understand that after twenty years of Batman’s code and fifteen years of Superman’s moralizing, the world was tired of ‘heroes’ who put the lives of criminals guilty of heinous crimes over the lives of their victims. The world didn’t want heroes like Batman and Superman anymore. It wanted heroes like her, The Canary, The Vigilante, and The Spectre. Heroes that were willing to make the ugly choices.

Supergirl’s ears perked up as she heard a woman’s scream for help, and she shot away, down towards the city that she was guardian over. One of the main differences between she and her cousin was she interfered with things like sexual assaults, having been inspired by The Canary and her crusade against the Russians. She didn’t want people to think she believed herself above such cases; without her powers, she would be just as vulnerable to such attacks, after all, and she knew that if she were, she would want someone to intervene. **_*6*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> For those who haven’t caught on yet, I hope this chapter helped to bring to mind that this is a story taking place in a world that is tired of the likes of The Joker being spared by the codes of Batman and Superman for the sake of rehabilitation and is responding better to the likes of The Spectre as a result. Batman and Superman were excellent heroes for their time, but there’s a reason that people in today’s world are fine with heroes killing and jeer at those who claim the “I don’t kill” high ground.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* Poor Oliver. Always underestimating himself.
> 
> *2* This isn’t meant to imply that Laurel is weak-willed. Just that she really hates lying and is really bad at it. That isn’t a judgment against her. It’s just inconvenient for those in her life who have huge secrets that she finds out…
> 
> *3* I’m modeling Deathstroke in this as someone who is the consummate professional. He does the job he’s hired to do, regardless of his personal views on the subject. “The client is always right” is his motto.
> 
> *4* Again, this is just my interpretation based on my LIMITED knowledge of the comics. If that’s not really what The Spectre is, oh well. That’s what it is in this story. I’m not gonna change it if someone whines about it.
> 
> *5* The disappointments just keep piling up for Batman and Superman, don’t they? What will it take for them to realize that their code is outdated, and people want something *more*?
> 
> *6* So, Kara is certainly different from her cousin (and her Earth-38 counterpart), isn’t she?


	10. The Canary Exposed

Oliver Queen stood waiting in the entrance hall of the Queen Mansion, waiting for the guests to arrive. The elder Lances would not be joining them, both citing different reasons. Quentin claimed to be busy with a new initiative at One Police Plaza and Dinah had claimed a need to grade students’ paperwork, but Oliver suspected it was because they were both still coming to terms with how they viewed Sara’s night-time activities. Sara herself had confirmed that she was coming, but only because she felt guilty for leaving Oliver to fend for himself since Robert had made it clear he wanted the meeting yesterday to be _only_ Queens. Oliver was glad Sara was coming; he had been assimilating more of his Earth-Prime memories and had discovered that he and Sara _did_ share a special connection despite not being together, and it was something that reminded him of the fact that the Sara he had lost and he had always had a special connection.

There was a light knock on the door, and Oliver smiled, knowing who it had to be. The Merlyns, being like family, would just walk in. He opened the door and found Sara on the other side, wearing a black one-piece dress with long sleeves that came down to just below her knees. “You look beautiful,” Oliver told her softly as he took her hand and guided her into the mansion.

“Thanks, Ollie,” Sara said, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. Oliver smiled at the sight of the young woman he had known inside the warrior that Sara had become. “So, judging by the lack of cars, I’m the first to arrive,” she added as the door closed behind her.

“You are,” Oliver confirmed. “I’m glad. I wanted to thank you. Without you, I would still be at that ratty motel, or maybe I would be living it rough on the streets, afraid to come home and face my family after everything that I’ve done, everything that I’ve become. You gave me the courage to face my fears, Sara. You have a fire inside of you, a fire that helps even the darkest of souls find their humanity.”

“Okay, now I’m _really_ blushing,” said a red-faced Sara. “What brought this on?”

“Just old memories cropping up,” Oliver said with a smile.

Before either of them could say anything else, the front door opened, and the Merlyns entered the Queen Mansion. First through the door were Malcolm and Rebecca, Oliver’s godparents, who beamed at the sight of him, Malcolm’s eyes glinting with amusement as he saw the way Oliver was tenderly holding Sara’s hand. “Oliver, it’s so _wonderful_ to have you back,” Rebecca said, coming forward and pulling Oliver into a hug, ripping his hand away from Sara’s in the process. She pulled back, examining him. “A bit thin, but that’ll be solved quickly now that you’re home,” she decided, Oliver smiling patiently at his godmother’s ever-compassionate nature. “Now, what’s this I hear from Moira that you’ve been in town for two weeks and haven’t made contact?”

“I wasn’t sure if there was a place for me here anymore, Aunt Rebecca,” Oliver said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I finally plucked up the courage to talk to Sara, and she convinced me that I still had a place here.”

“And she was right,” Malcolm said, holding out a hand for Oliver to shake, which he did. “Thank you, Sara, for talking sense into my godson.”

“He just needed a little push in the right direction,” Sara said, trying to downplay her role in all of this.

“She’s being modest,” Oliver said, and Sara shot him a sharp look. He ignored it as he continued to say, “She gave me the courage to come back into your lives. I told her just before you arrived that she has a fire in her that would help even the darkest soul find their humanity again. I’d been so without human contact I’d begun to fear I had lost mine. She helped be find it again, along with my courage.”

“Oliver, _stop,_ ” Sara groaned, flushing red again. Laurel, standing nearby, smirked at her baby sister even while she wondered what Oliver would think if he knew what else Sara did. “You make me sound like some _guardian angel_ or something.” Sara’s lips quirked into a smirk as Oliver’s eyes widened at the emphasis she put on ‘guardian angel’ and took the hint. He mimed zipping his lips shut, to the amusement of the Merlyns.

Oliver turned his attention to his two best friends. “When I realized that the two of you were married, I was a little surprised, but after I thought about it, I realized that there’s no one better suited for Laurel than you, Tommy.”

“Dude, are you trying to make everyone blush?” Tommy asked, looking amused even as his cheeks flushed. Laurel smiled at her husband, shaking his head at his ‘macho’ attitude.

“I haven’t seen any of you in thirteen years,” Oliver returned. “I have a lot of time to make up for.”

“It’s good to see you again, buddy,” Tommy said, moving forward and pulling Oliver into a bro hug. The two slapped each other on the back as they pulled one another forward with their clasped hands. Laurel met Sara’s gaze and rolled her eyes for a moment, the silent message of _boys_ echoing between the estranged sisters. Sara’s lips twitched, but other than that, she showed no sign she had seen her sister’s actions or that they had communicated in any way. She had no idea how Laurel was currently feeling about the revelation that she was The Canary, or the fact that their mother had been a vigilante in Gotham called the Black Canary.

Finally, Oliver was faced with Laurel. The two looked at one another, unsure how to act. Finally, Oliver moved forward, placing his hands on Laurel’s shoulders, and pulled her close, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m happy for you, Laurel,” he said quietly. “Tommy is a good man, and you’re a good woman. You both deserve as much happiness as you can get from life.”

“Thank you, Ollie,” Laurel said, falling back beside her husband and slipping her arm around his waist. Tommy’s arm fell on her shoulders, his grin utterly relaxed, and whatever awkwardness there might’ve been between the three old friends fell away as it became obvious Oliver held no residual feelings for Laurel and was happy to see her happy with Tommy. **_*1*_**

Oliver offered his arm to Sara, who chuckled but accepted it in the spirit it was offered, and Oliver escorted her to the dining room, followed by the Merlyns, the men having offered their respective arms to their wives. It was a relaxed atmosphere at dinner which steered away from controversial topics, instead keeping things light and happy. Eventually, the conversation wound down and the dinner party broke up.

Oliver escorted Sara out to her motorcycle. “I assume you’ll be patrolling tonight?” he said softly, reaching out and tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Yeah,” Sara said. “That’s the thing about what we do. The work is never really over.”

“No,” Oliver said softly. “I suppose it isn’t.” Oliver put a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful, Sara.”

“Not really possible in my line of work, Ollie,” Sara said, going up on the tips of her toes and kissing his cheek. “But thank you for the concern.” She straddled her bike, putting her helmet on, and Oliver stole a glance at Sara’s muscular leg, remembering another life, another Sara who had wrapped similarly muscular legs around his waist as they came together in a moment of passionate lovemaking. He looked away a moment later, and Sara was glad her helmet was on, because she was sure she was blushing. She started the engine, waved goodbye to Oliver, and left the Queen Mansion. Neither Oliver nor Sara was aware that their exchange had had an observer.

A single brown eye had watched the entire exchange, hard and cold as recognition of the man set in, and what it meant that he was still alive. This was something Deathstroke’s superiors at H.I.V.E. would be interested in, considering Oliver Queen’s interference in their affairs in destroying the Mirakuru and the plans to destroy the Chinese economy and force the communist country to call in its markers, including the one the United States owed them, and potentially cause a new world conflict that H.I.V.E. could profit from. Once the contract surrounding Sara Lance’s life was taken care of, he would make his report to his superiors.

**_*DC*_ **

The Canary spun in place, lashing out with her bo staff and catching one of the would-be rapists across the jaw, sending him spinning backward and landing on his stomach. The Canary didn’t pause in the flow of combat, jutting her staff forward and striking the next man’s solar plexus, paralyzing his movements from lack of breath for a few precious moments, during which she delivered three quick, vicious left hooks to his jaw. The man collapsed to the ground, groaning. The Canary turned her attention to the final man, who turned and tried to run. The Canary unleashed her Cry, catching the man in the back and propelling him forward, where he smashed into a parked car, the alarm for which began going off.

The Canary approached the groaning man and held her bo staff under his chin. “ _This is the second time I’ve caught you doing this,_ ” The Canary said softly. “ _Time for a lesson you won’t forget._ ” She unleashed her Cry on his legs, pitching it to break bones, and the man howled in pain as his bones splintered inside of him. He turned on his side and began crawling away, only for The Canary to deliver a quick, vicious strike to the back of his head, knocking him out.

The Canary walked back into the alley and knelt next to the would-be victim. “ _This is the second time we’ve met under unpleasant circumstances,_ ” she told the young woman with spiky black hair. “ _What’s your name?_ ”

“Sin,” the young woman replied.

“ _Sin?_ ” The Canary echoed, quirking an eyebrow.

“Cindy Simone, but I like Sin,” Sin clarified.

“ _Gotcha,_ ” The Canary said. “ _Well, Sin, let’s get you to the Merlyn Clinic. It’s nearer than any other hospital._ ” She stood, stretching her hand out to Sin, and the young woman grabbed it, hauling herself to her feet. The two women began the short journey to the Merlyn Clinic, taking the journey in companionable silence.

Finally, Sin spoke. “Why?” she asked.

“ _Why what?_ ” The Canary asked in turn.

“Why do you do this? No one cares about the Glades,” Sin said.

“ _Because no one should have to live like this, afraid to walk their own streets,_ ” The Canary replied. “ _I’ve been all over the world, seen a lot of terrible things. To see them happening in my home… it needs to stop._ ”

The rest of the journey to the Merlyn Clinic was done in silence, Sin mulling over The Canary’s words while the vigilante herself kept a wary eye out for either police cruisers or people looking to make a name for themselves by taking down the Glades’ protector. Finally, they arrived at the clinic. “ _You’ll be safe here, Sin,_ ” The Canary said, putting a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. Sin nodded and entered the clinic. The Canary waited until she saw Sin talking to one of the nurses, and then headed into an alley, leaping up and grabbing a fire escape to return to the roofs of the Glades. It was almost four a.m., now; time to head back to the clock tower and change. She began heading in that direction, leaping between buildings, thankful for the narrow alleys and roads of the Glades.

After a particularly difficult leap, The Canary paused on a building and moved to look down on the main road. There was a patrol car there, with two officers leaning against it, living the cliché of sipping coffee and eating donuts. The Canary shook her head; the cops left in the Glades were either on the take or not the best and brightest that made it through the academy. Men like these was why she had had to become The Canary in the first place.

A loud _crack_ echoed through the air, and something hard and fast impacted the small of her back, propelling her forward, off of the roof. The ground was rushing up to meet her too fast, so she curled in on herself, hoping the upgrade Oliver gave her suit would absorb the impact. It did, but she still had the breath knocked out of her and her head bounced on the concrete, leaving her discombobulated. The Canary lay on the ground, completely out of it, unaware of the stunned looks on the police officers as the city’s number one most wanted practically fell into their laps. They pulled their guns, because they knew what a gunshot sounded like and there was possibly a shooter nearby and approached The Canary’s prone form.

The younger of the two officers holstered his weapon and reached down, casting The Canary’s bo staff aside and pulling her arms behind her back, cuffing her. The two men hauled the woman to her feet, the older man snatching up her bo staff and twisting it, unlocking it and allowing him to split it in two. The younger cop reached forward. “Let’s see whose pretty face is under the mask,” he said, and pulled it off as The Canary jerked away instinctively.

For a moment, the three of them stared at one another. Finally, Sara said, “Take a picture, they last longer, boys.”

“Y-You’re the commissioner’s daughter, the doctor!” the younger officer squeaked.

“You clearly graduated top of your class at the academy,” Sara snarked. She knew she was being bitchy, but this was humiliating. Sniper or not, she had been caught by two of the Glades’ finest. That was like being caught by Barney Fife. At least give her a capture by someone who was on the fast track to the F.B.I.! Hell, give her an F.B.I. agent! This was utterly humiliating, and if she ever found out who fired that bullet at her, she might just be tempted to use her Canary Cry in a more lethal fashion than normal, and not just because they had _shot her in the back_ like a coward. **_*2*_**

The older officer recovered from his shock and began reading Sara her Miranda rights as he led her towards the police cruiser, putting her in the back. He retreated to the rear of the cruiser, opened the trunk, and retrieved an evidence bag, which he slipped the two halves of Sara’s bo staff into. Then the officers got into the cruiser. The older officer reached for the radio. “This is Delta Charlie Romeo. We’ve just caught The Canary. Taking her to the 1st Precinct for processing.” The 1st Precinct was where the Anti-Vigilante Task Force that had been hunting The Canary, and now The Spectre, was based out of.

“Roger that,” said the voice on the other end, sounding stunned that a two-year hunt was at an end, though the Task Force’s job was hardly over for as long as The Spectre was free. Sara sat in the back of the cruiser silently, musing over the fact that her father and sister would have no choice now but to choose a side when it came to her actions. They would either have to defend her actions or condemn them, and Sara suspected it would be the latter with how tense things had been in the family since Laurel discovered her secret. Not for the first time, she wondered if it would have been better to accept Oliver’s offer to wipe the memories of her secret from her family’s minds, or at least Laurel’s and their father’s. Her mother, she was sure, would never have told her secret.

_Wayne is going to be smug about this,_ she thought darkly, knowing that Batman would feel vindicated at her apprehension. At least the city still had Oliver.

Neither of the officers seemed like they wanted to talk to her, perhaps afraid that as the commissioner’s daughter she would get them fired if they taunted her about being caught. More than likely her father would give these bozos medals for catching such a dangerous anarchist, even if it was his own daughter. Anything to fight the tidal wave of accusations of corruption that was sure to follow once the city learned that she was The Canary. She remembered her sister’s angry words about how every conviction under Laurel’s tenure and every arrest made with The Canary’s help under Quentin’s would be called into question, giving scum the chance to walk free.

The police cruiser pulled to a stop in front of the 1st Precinct, where there was somehow already a press presence, waiting for the first glimpse of Star City’s elusive vigilante. The officers got out and then hauled her out of the back of the cruiser. Sara was almost blinded by the flash of cameras and the lights on top of recording cameras that illuminated her features. Recognition set in for the press as it had for the officers, and there was a similarly stunned silence as the officers led her through the crowd of reporters. Sara knew that that wouldn’t be the case the next time she was faced with the vultures. She remained silent as she was led into the bullpen, and voices quieted as they took in the sight of the vigilante who had been eluding them for two years, faces expressing shock as recognition set in and they realized it was the commissioner’s youngest daughter.

Sara was led to a holding room and uncuffed, only to have a high-tech bracelet put around her wrist, which glowed blue upon being activated. A metahuman dampener, designed by a scientist named Cisco Ramon, they were commonplace in most cities now since metahumans were slowly becoming more frequent. Sara being a known metahuman as The Canary, it was unsurprising she had been fitted with it in order to keep her from using her powers to escape custody. She almost snorted in amusement. If she was going to escape, she would’ve knocked those two idiots out and then dislocated her thumbs to slip out of the handcuffs. She may be a criminal, but she wasn’t about to hurt people who were upholding the law.

Sara lay back on the cot provided, knowing that within the hour her father was likely to arrive. She ignored the wolf-whistles and catcalls from the other prisoners in the holding cells around her beyond a curl of her lip.

**_*DC*_ **

Quentin Lance grunted as he reached for his cell phone, which was ringing on the nightstand beside the bed in the hotel room he was renting. “Lance,” he grunted into the phone.

“Commissioner, this is Lieutenant Frederickson at the 1st Precinct,” said the caller. Lance put a face to the name; Frederickson was a good officer, and he wouldn’t be calling for just any reason. Quentin sat up as the lieutenant continued, “Sir, we’ve had a… troubling development on The Canary pursuit.”

“What development?” Quentin asked, his heart rate quickening. Had someone seen Sara without her mask and put two and two together?

“Sir, earlier tonight, a pair of patrolmen were on break when The Canary landed on the sidewalk in front of them,” Frederickson said, and Quentin felt his stomach churn. “They checked her for injuries and then cuffed her. Sir… it’s your daughter. The doctor.”

“I see,” Quentin said heavily. “I’m on my way.” He hung up and then leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. So, what he had told Sara had finally happened. She’d been caught. Quentin picked up his phone again, opening his list of contacts. Before he went down there to oversee his daughter’s booking, he needed to tell Dinah and Laurel. Regardless of the troubles they were having, they didn’t deserve to find out about Sara’s arrest from the morning news.

**_*DC*_ **

Sara sat up on the cot as her father entered the room with the holding cells. She moved to the bars, mirroring his movements, and for a moment, the two stared at each other. “I told you that we would catch The Canary,” he said finally.

“Those two idiots hardly _caught_ me,” Sara scoffed. “Guess they didn’t tell you about the fact someone took a shot at me. The echo from that shot couldn’t have been missed. I can still feel the point of impact. I’d bet the bullet is buried in the back of my suit, not that those two morons checked me over too much, just enough to make sure I wasn’t bleeding.”

“Don’t play a game of semantics with me, Sara,” Quentin said sharply. “It’s over. You’re getting booked, and your arraignment will be done before the end of the day. I hope you’re happy. All those scumbags you had a hand in catching? They’re gonna use this to get their cases retried, and they’ll have a case for entrapment unless I show that there was no collusion between the police department and The Canary. You’re getting the book thrown at you, Sara. I can’t do anything less if I want to keep those scumbags behind bars.” **_*3*_**

“Kinda figured that’d be the case, Dad,” Sara said, moving back to the cot. “Let me know when you want me for the photo shoot,” she added mockingly, and Quentin scowled at the flippant way his daughter was treating this. He knew she had the support of the people; it was entirely possible that no jury would convict her, if it even went to trial depending on who ended up serving as her lawyer.

**_*DC*_ **

Laurel Merlyn brushed her hair absently as she got ready for the day. It was six a.m., and she had woken to a message from her father that Sara had been caught last night. Her sister, her vigilante sister, had been caught, and now everything that she and their father had done had been thrown up in the air. But despite her anger at Sara for putting them in this position, Laurel was more focused on things that had been said to her in the past seventy-two hours.

_“The Glades are dying; they are being destroyed by a criminal elite who don’t care who they hurt, so long as they maintain their wealth and power.”_

_“Do you even care about those people anymore, Laurel? Or have you forgotten what it means to be Laurel Lance now that you’ve been Laurel Merlyn for so long?”_

_“You go ahead and fight your big battles, Laurel. I’ll be here to help the people caught in the crossfire.”_

Laurel set her comb down, thinking over everything her sister had said. Her troubled expression attracted the attention of her husband. “What’s going on?” Tommy asked softly, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently. “This got anything to do with that message you got earlier?”

“Yeah,” Laurel said softly. “It was Dad. They caught Sara as The Canary.”

“Oh,” Tommy said softly. His hands slipped lower and he slipped his arms under hers, pulling her close. “Is it just what’s happening with Sara that’s got you looking this way, or is there something else?”

“I was thinking about when I first became a lawyer,” Laurel replied softly. “I worked at that little office in the Glades, had to put in countless hours, and only won a quarter of the cases. Then Stagg Industries pulled out and that fundraiser you threw didn’t go so well, so we shut our doors and I went to work at the D.A.’s office.”

“I remember,” Tommy said, resting his head on top of her head. “What about it?”

“Sara asked me when I confronted her if I’ve been Laurel Merlyn so long that I’ve forgotten what it meant to be Laurel Lance,” Laurel replied softly. “She basically accused me of ignoring the people and focusing only on cases I can win, the way every other D.A. has, the very kind of thing I was fighting to correct at C.N.R.I.”

“And you think she has a point,” Tommy observed. Laurel gave him a startled look in the mirror. “Laurel, you wouldn’t be fixating on this, troubled by it, if you didn’t feel there was a ring of truth to it all. I know you. I can’t tell you what to think or what to do. I wouldn’t try. You’ve _always_ done what you felt was right. But I do remember the passionate young lawyer I dated, and while I find the supreme lawyer look good on you… the rebel with cause who fought so passionately for her clients was the woman I fell in love with. I still see glimpses of her, sometimes.” Tommy kissed the top of Laurel’s head. “Whatever you do, do what you feel is right.” Tommy left Laurel to her troubled thoughts. **_*4*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes:
> 
> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* I hate awkward semi-triangles, even if it’s one-sided worries. Tommy and Laurel have been married for eight years. I don’t think Tommy would be worried about Oliver and Laurel at this point, so I didn’t write that sort of nonsense in.
> 
> *2* Doesn’t matter which world it is, Sara will never get on with Slade Wilson.
> 
> *3* Quentin is in a truly awkward position, having to choose between his love for the law and his love for his daughter.
> 
> *4* Laurel is now at the same crossroads Quentin was at. Which path will she choose?


	11. The Terminator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry that this is late, I got caught up plotting an original project I’m working on. On another note, this chapter is the last one that was previously posted. Everything after this will be new material. Enjoy.

The booking process reminded Sara of a brief college experience she had had; before deciding to go pre-med, she had had thoughts of getting a sociology degree and one of the class requirements was to get an inside look at a governmental function. The only difference was this time her father was looking on with a twisted look on his face rather than an amused one, as though he didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or tell the officers to stop booking her. Okay, maybe that list bit was just wishful thinking on her part. She knew her father hated vigilantes, but it was _hard_ to see him looking at her like that as she was printed, photographed, and had her suit confiscated to be replaced by gray jumpsuit with a number and S.C.D.O.C. printed on the back. Throughout the entire process, the cops around her kept a wary eye on her, as though expecting her to try and effect an escape from within the precinct.

Sara was returned to her cell, where she would wait until they transported her to the courthouse for her arraignment. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she realized she would probably have to be assigned an attorney unless her mother paid for one. _I should have taken Ollie up on his offer,_ she thought to herself. _Well, nothing to be done about it now. But I guess we’ll see just how loved The Canary is… assuming the cops don’t get bought off and deliver me to the Russians._

Sara was pulled from her thoughts by two officers entering the holding area and opening her cell. “Your lawyer’s here to see you,” one of them said, a strange look on his face. Sara was confused, since she figured she wouldn’t get a lawyer until she was at the courthouse. She stood, allowing the cops to cuff her again. _Aw, they’re so precious, thinking that would actually stop me,_ she thought to herself. If she wanted to escape, she could; but she would have to hurt a lot of good people in the process, and if she came face-to-face with her father, she didn’t know if she would be able to deliver the knockout blow. She was led through the bullpen again towards one of the interview rooms. One of the cops moved ahead and opened the door, and Sara was guided into the room. Her eyebrows popped up when she saw who was waiting for her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Choosing a side,” Sara’s sister, Laurel, replied. She gave the officers a harsh look. “I think we can lose the cuffs, gentlemen. My sister would never hurt me, we’re in the middle of a police precinct, and there’s a meta-dampener around her wrist.” The two officers exchanged nervous looks. “Need I remind you of the fact that even criminals are afforded basic human rights, and my sister has presumably shown no aggression towards officers upholding the law, only criminals who have committed the vilest of crimes? Take them off. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the officer with the cuff key. He unlocked the cuffs, which had been pinched rather tight in Sara’s opinion. She sat at the table across from her sister as the officers left the room.

“Didn’t expect this,” Sara admitted.

“You reminded me of what I used to be like, something I needed,” Laurel replied. “I may not understand why you’ve chosen to do what you do, but I don’t want to see you railroaded either, and Dad can’t do anything.”

“Isn’t it gonna make problems for you, the District Attorney taking a defense case for a vigilante, fighting her own office?” Sara asked.

“By noon, Mayor Queen will have my resignation,” Laurel replied. “I’ll be opening a private practice, focusing mostly on pro bono clients, like I used to do at C.N.R.I. Like I said, you reminded me of the person I used to be, and Tommy said that was who he fell in love with, and that he still catches glimpses of her sometimes.” Laurel opened her file. “For the moment, we need to focus on keeping you out of prison until your trial, and that means convincing the judge arraigning you that you won’t try to do a runner. I think we can make the case that you have strong ties to the community and don’t have the means to flee even if you wanted to. Which,” she added, giving her sister a thoughtful look, “I doubt you do. But it may take wearing an ankle monitor and the meta-dampener at all times. Are you ready to accept those terms?”

“Yeah,” Sara said softly. “I know what happens if I go to prison, Laurel. I’ve known this was a possibility since I took up the mask.” The only sign of the fear Sara felt at the idea of seeing the inside of prison walls was the slight tremor in her hand as she reached across the table and took Laurel’s hand. “Whatever happens, I know you’ll have done your best. Don’t blame yourself if things don’t go my way at arraignment, Laurel. I’m the one who chose to become a vigilante in a city that hunts them.”

Laurel blinked rapidly and clasped Sara’s hand between her own. “Sara, I am going to do my best to make sure you aren’t sent to prison to await trial,” Laurel said. “I don’t want the arraignment to be the last time I see you alive, and I know who has the power at Iron Heights.” _The Russians_ was left unspoken between the Lance sisters. “Now, since we’re talking about a trial, I assume you’re going to fight this and not plead guilty to the charges?”

“Technically, all they have on me is landing in front of them in an outfit that _looks_ like what The Canary wears,” Sara said pointedly. “But Dad and I had an exchange and he’ll have to testify under oath to what I said. But I want to leave this in the hands of the people. They’re the ones I’m fighting for.”

“Alright,” Laurel said, making a note. “After the arraignment, assuming things go our way, you’ll be brought back here to be processed out. I already called Mom and she’s going to bring some of your old things for you to wear.”

“You both seem to be hoping things go our way at arraignment,” Sara said quietly.

“Neither of us want to lose you, Sara, and neither does Dad, even if he has to do his job and publicly decry what you’ve done,” Laurel said, squeezing her sister’s hand gently. “Alright. I’ve got everything I need. I’ll see you at the courthouse, Sara.” **_*1*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver Queen sat in silence as the story unfolded on the morning news. The Canary had been captured at long last and she was none other than Commissioner Lance’s youngest daughter, who worked as a doctor at the Merlyn Clinic. He observed his family and their reactions carefully, allowing a little of his power as The Spectre to give him a better gauge of their thoughts and feelings on the matter.

Robert was stunned by the development, trying to picture the young woman that had had dinner with him last night and joked around with his son being the woman who was tangling with the Russians and generic rapists and muggers in the Glades, a woman who many had touted as being a more effective deterrent against crime than the measures Quentin Lance had instituted in the S.C.P.D. at Robert’s suggestion. Robert could tell this was going to make them all look like they had egg on their face. The Lances were very close to the Queen family, and that Quentin, Laurel, and Robert knew nothing of this was going to give the press a field day.

Moira was shocked but thoughtful about the revelation. She wondered how Dinah and Quentin were feeling and knew she would have to be there for her friends as best she could. She worried over what would happen if Sara were sent to prison before her trial date, for there was undoubtedly going to be a trial. The people would demand it if nothing else. She also worried how this would impact her husband’s administration as Mayor of Star City. The daughter of one of his closest friends and appointee to police commissioner, the sister of his chosen District Attorney, was a vigilante that had been giving the police trouble with her interference in matters in the Glades for two years. The press might well tear Robert, Quentin, and Laurel apart for having no idea. On the other hand, they might be painted as out of touch that they hadn’t noticed who The Canary was.

Mia was likewise shocked, but her genius intellect was already allowing her to piece together all of the clues that pointed to something off with Sara. Mia looked over at her brother to get an idea of how he was reacting and saw a calm expression where she had expected shock or dismay. That led Mia to one inescapable conclusion. “You knew,” she said quietly, attracting her parents’ attention.

“What was that, dear?” Moira asked confusedly.

“Ollie knew about Sara, he isn’t shocked at all,” Mia said, directing her parents’ attention to Oliver.

Oliver quirked an eyebrow at Mia’s quick deduction but saw no reason to lie. “Yes, I knew,” he said quietly. “I spent two weeks watching you all, trying to decide who to approach, if anyone, remember? I saw Sara go out as The Canary one night when I nearly approached her. It threw me for a loop, and I waited a little while longer.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, son?” Robert said.

“It wasn’t my place, or my secret, to tell,” Oliver replied. The rest of his family looked at one another, each wondering if there were other secrets Oliver was keeping from them because they weren’t ‘his place’ to tell.

**_*DC*_ **

The Queens weren’t the only ones surprised by the morning news announcing the capture of The Canary. Slade Wilson _knew_ he had put a round in the woman’s back which would have left her writhing in agony but ultimately led to death. Apparently, she wore some kind of body armor beneath that form-fitting outfit of hers. Slade considered his options. They would want to arraign the vigilante quickly, so she was probably already on the docket at the courthouse. There was little chance of fighting his way through the courthouse and finding the exact courtroom that she was being arraigned in. That left when she was returned to the police station, either to be held until transport to prison could be arranged or to go over the terms of her release on bail. While the police precinct would be well-manned, they would be no match for his skill, or the gear he possessed. Yes, the precinct was the best place to launch his assault and finish the job.

Slade logged into his information network, bringing up all the information on the Star City 1st Precinct. He needed to know the layout for the assault to work; he also turned on his police scanner. He needed to know when they were transporting her back to the precinct from the courthouse. **_*2*_**

**_*DC*_ **

“Docket 11-34-46-93, the people vs Sara Lance,” read the court scribe. Sara and Laurel stood at the defendant’s table, the A.D.A. who had been assigned to the case getting a wild look in his eyes when he saw that his _boss_ was playing defense counsel.

“Mrs. Merlyn, this is a surprise,” Judge Joseph Grell said.

“I’ve decided it’s time to leave the position of District Attorney,” Laurel replied smoothly. “My sister is the first client of my new practice.”

Grell internally shuddered. Laurel Merlyn was an intelligent and cunning attorney who had risen swiftly to the position of District Attorney due to her dedication to her work. That she would take a defense case, even if it _was_ her sister, meant things were changing in Star City, and that meant he would probably be seeing Laurel Merlyn in the same capacity he had seen a younger Laurel Lance: as a pit bull going after white collar criminals. “So noted,” Grell said. “The charges?”

“The charges are aggravated assault, breaking and entering, using a metahuman power for criminal activities, and acting as a vigilante,” the A.D.A. replied.

“How does your client plead?” Grell asked, eyeing the Lance sisters.

“Not guilty, your honor,” Laurel replied. “The sole basis for the arrest is that my sister had an outfit on that resembles that of the vigilante known as The Canary. They didn’t even test to make sure she carries the metagene before arranging all of this.”

“People on bail?” Grell asked, not about to get into an argument of semantics with one of the most accomplished lawyers in Star City.

“The people request remand, Your Honor,” the A.D.A. replied. “The defendant stands accused of vigilantism, has very powerful friends with deep pockets, and is considered a flight risk.”

“My client has deep ties to the community as a doctor at the Merlyn Clinic and, if one takes the accusations of the people at face value, is a vigilante deeply committed to helping the people of the Glades,” Laurel said. “She is willing to accept confinement via an ankle monitor and wearing a meta-dampener, should she prove to have the metagene. She is also willing to surrender her passport.”

“A fine thing, for a woman whose sister has access to a fleet of private jets,” the A.D.A. couldn’t help but reply snidely.

“Under the law, my client is innocent until proven guilty, Your Honor,” Laurel said evenly, “and the evidence the police have gathered thus far is incredibly thin and can barely be considered circumstantial. Are we now throwing women into prison for wearing what looks like bondage outfits? If so, I believe there’s an escort service in town that needs a visit from our friends in law enforcement.” Sara kept her face carefully blank, but inside she was grinning. The police had actually helped her case by arresting her the way they had. They hadn’t caught her in the act of vigilantism; there was no evidence connecting her to any of the actions of The Canary. And even when she tested positive for the metagene, they could not say with any certainty that her power was a sonic scream because if it was, wouldn’t she have used it to soften her landing and as a result keep her senses long enough to escape and evade?

Grell sighed. _This is an ugly mess,_ he thought to himself. The police, eager as they were to make an arrest regarding The Canary pursuit, had jumped the gun. All they had was Sara Lance wearing an outfit that resembled The Canary’s and seeing as it was an open secret that the commissioner’s youngest daughter didn’t have a committed relationship and was an out-and-open bisexual, the argument could be made that she had been fulfilling some man or woman’s sexual fantasy and that was why she had been dressed up. “With the evidence being so thin, I don’t see that an ankle monitor will be necessary, especially given Miss Lance’s deep ties to the community,” Grell finally said. “If she possesses the metagene, she will be required to wear a meta-dampener until such a time as she is cleared of all charges, for both her safety and that of the people around her. Bail is set at $500,000.” The judge banged the gavel, dismissing both parties. **_*3*_**

Laurel surprised Sara by pulling her into a hug and saying, “Don’t worry about the bail, Sara. I’ll handle it.”

“I can afford it,” Sara objected.

“I _want_ to do this,” Laurel replied. Sara looked into her sister’s eyes and saw the same sort of defiance she had possessed when proudly stating her intentions to continue being The Canary to both Laurel and their father. Sara sighed and nodded and wondered how others were taking her arrest.

**_*DC*_ **

The patients at the Merlyn Clinic were shocked at the report on the television that The Canary had been arrested, and even more shocked to hear that it was someone they all knew very well: Dr. Sara Lance, one of the most compassionate and easy-going doctors on staff at the Clinic. The staff were equally shocked, trying to reconcile the bubbly, ever-cheerful Sara Lance with the woman who broke bones and delivered severe beatings to the thugs who thought they could run roughshod over the people of the Glades.

Rebecca Merlyn was learning this for the first time and was joining her staff at staring at the television as Sara, clad in a prisoner’s uniform, was led out of the courthouse, ignoring the shouted questions with her sister at her side. It didn’t seem possible. Sara, The Canary? How could she be? The Canary was ruthless in her pursuit of justice, pressing the boundaries of what was ‘accepted’ for heroes. But even as Rebecca tried to deny it, all of Sara’s excuses about late nights after her work at the Clinic came flooding back and she realized that Sara had never mentioned peoples’ names when talking of her mystery rendezvouses. Now Rebecca was forced to acknowledge that was probably because there were none; the young woman whose interest in the healing arts she had cultivated and groomed to take a place at the Merlyn Clinic was also a vigilante who beat the hell out of the Russians, pimps, and others, sometimes breaking their bones to do it.

Cindy ‘Sin’ Simone listened to the commotion around her and was surprised at the number of people that her rescuer, if the news was to be believed, had helped as both a doctor and as The Canary. More than a few abuse victims convalescing at the hospital had been brought here by The Canary, and then many of them had been treated by Dr. Lance. She studied the woman on the screen, since she had been the one the woman saved last night before her apparent arrest and felt something churn in her stomach. The woman on the television did bear a strong resemblance to The Canary, and anyone who had seen The Canary up close would know this. Which meant with her exposed, she was gonna be in danger from the Russians and everyone else she had crossed while defending the people of the Glades.

**_*DC*_ **

Bruce Wayne watched as Sara Lance was led out of the Star City Courthouse with a pensive expression on his face. On the one hand, he felt vindicated, because the arrogant little girl was finally getting her comeuppance. But on the other hand, she _knew_ who he was and if the right deal was offered to her, she had no reason to protect his secret, especially since he had threatened a friend of hers and was still seeking a way to neutralize The Spectre’s powers so that he could be brought to justice. So far, Zatanna’s warning had proven true: not a single sorcerer of good repute that he approached was willing to entertain the idea of working with him once they learned his target was The Spectre.

Bruce decided it was time to implement some of the contingencies he had come up with in his head once The Spectre revealed his identity to Sara Lance, just in case.

**_*DC*_ **

Clark Kent and Lois Lane had been watching the news of The Canary’s arrest, which had already hit the national circuit, when they were called into Perry White’s office. “You two, pack your bags, you’re headed for Star City until this thing has run through to it’s conclusion,” Perry told them, and they blinked in surprise. “The Canary’s exposure could be the lynchpin in how people react to this different brand of hero we’re seeing, and you can be damned sure Cat Grant is going to send one of her best to get the scoop. I refuse to be out-scooped by that harridan again!” Perry was, of course, referring to the fact that Kara’s article showcasing tentative support of The Spectre had received more hits, Retweets, and Shares than Clark’s article condemning the same had.

“You sure that’s wise, Chief?” Clark asked. “It’s just, this could take months.”

“Doubtful,” Perry replied. “Commissioner Lance is a known hard-ass with vigilantes, and that it’s his own daughter means he’ll want to get this over and done with A.S.A.P. You’ll be gone a month, tops. I won’t send anything less than my best to get this scoop.”

“We’re on it, Chief,” Lois said swiftly, and dragged Clark out of the office.

The last thing the two heard before the door closed was, “Great Caesar’s Ghost!”

**_*DC*_ **

“Kara,” Cat Grant said, waving the new cub reporter into her office. Kara followed Cat in, curious as to what this was about. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news out of Star City?”

“I have,” Kara admitted. She was kind of sad that this was happening but surprised to find out that The Canary was presumably the daughter of the police commissioner. _That_ would make for an awkward family dinner, kind of like how things were between she and Clark over the difference in their methods.

“I’m sending you to Star City to get the scoop,” Cat said.

“Ms. Grant, shouldn’t another reporter do that?” Kara questioned. “Someone more experienced, like Snapper?” Snapper Carr was the new head of the journalism department at CatCo Worldwide Media and she had an antagonistic relationship with him, but she did respect his skill as a reporter. He had broken numerous stories over the years as an investigative journalist.

“You’re a known quantity on the subject of vigilantes like The Canary thanks to your article about The Spectre,” Cat replied. “You are more likely to get answers from Miss Lance. You seem the type.”

“What, do you want me to seduce her or something?” Kara couldn’t help but joke.

“Don’t be foolish, Kara,” Cat replied, giving her former assistant an amused look. “You couldn’t seduce a porn star.” Kara sputtered at this, but Cat continued unabated. “I mean that you are an earnest, eager young reporter looking to make her big break, and what bigger break could there be than getting the inside scoop on The Canary and how she came to choose the path of vigilantism in a city where the police commissioner is ardently against such methods of justice? Especially if you can out-scoop Clark Kent and Lois Lane in the process?” This last bit was said with relish, as Cat had always had a rivalry with Lois during her time at the _Daily Planet_.

Kara considered this but knew it wouldn’t matter what she said. Cat had made her decision. “I’ll have my bags packed and ready to go in no time, Miss Grant,” she said. “I’ll just need to book a flight.”

“Nonsense,” Cat scoffed. “My jet will take you. It’s faster than a commercial airliner and will give you an edge on getting to Star City. It helps that we’re only a couple of hours’ flight from Star City while Metropolis is at least six by commercial air.”

“Oh, okay,” Kara said, stunned. _Miss Grant really must want this win,_ she thought to herself. The woman was notoriously stingy with her resources.

**_*DC*_ **

The van Deathstroke was being transported in by one of his contacts pulled to a stop in front of the police precinct where The Canary was being processed out. According to the police scanner, the transport had just returned from the courthouse. His contact had made good time getting here. It would mean The Canary was going to be relatively alone and vulnerable as she changed into civilian clothes and waited to be processed out of custody. “You’ve done well,” Deathstroke informed his contact, and then exited the van, an imposing sight in his armor and half-black, half-orange titanium mask.

Reporters were gathered on the steps, waiting for a chance to set their own ambush for The Canary, speaking into microphones and updating the eagerly waiting audiences. The reporters were silenced at the appearance of the armed and armored Deathstroke, and the reporters parted ways like the Red Sea had for Moses as Deathstroke moved forward. The two officers guarding the doors went for their weapons; Deathstroke was faster, putting .50 caliber rounds from his specially made pistol into their chests, which punched out the back of them and shattered the glass of the police station. Deathstroke moved forward, stepping over the bodies and through the shattered glass window.

An officer came at him with a stun baton. Deathstroke grabbed the officer by the neck and used his enhanced strength to break the poor bastard’s neck. Deathstroke drew his sword and gutted the next officer to come across him, a rather portly fellow whose intestines had an unhealthy look to them as they poured out of his slit gut. The officer tried vainly to scoop his guts back in before expiring. Deathstroke stepped over the officer and continued on his way, shooting one man and cutting the head off another, the blood spraying his armor as the body topped to the ground. One man lay between Deathstroke and the bullpen. Deathstroke let out a roar and grabbed the man before throwing him through the doors leading into the bullpen, shattering the glass doors, which descended in a glinting rain on the cowering officers. Deathstroke entered the bullpen and was faced with twenty cops plus the police commissioner, all of whom had their weapons trained on him.

“I am here for the vigilante known as The Canary,” Deathstroke rumbled. “You need not lose your lives for this woman. Stand down, point me in her direction, and I will allow you to live.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Commissioner Quentin Lance sneered. “I’m not giving my _daughter_ to a fucking psychopath. And if any man here even thinks of it, you’ll be kissing your careers goodbye.”

“They may decide losing a career path is a small price to pay for continued existence,” Deathstroke. “I do not have infinite patience. Decide quickly.”

A younger officer stepped forward. “The bitch is in the holding area,” he said. “I can go, right?”

“I am a man of my word,” Deathstroke replied, stepping aside for the officer, who fled, knowing he would never again set foot here as an officer of the law and perfectly fine with that. He hadn’t signed up to protect the commissioner’s rebellious little girl! Deathstroke turned his attention to the remaining officers. “Any who wish to join him should do so now.” No one moved. “Very well,” Deathstroke said, then raised his pistol, firing at the nearest officer and taking most of his head with the blast from the pistol. He cleaved three heads from shoulders at once, turned and fired at a pair of officers who fired shotguns at him, catching them in the gut and leaving them writhing in agony.

Deathstroke stabbed another man through the heart, bringing his pistol up and putting around in another man’s right ribcage, blowing through the lung in the process. The Terminator continued his assault, slicing, stabbing, and shooting his way through the cops until it was just him and the commissioner left, the mercenary’s armor gleaming with crimson blood. Quentin moved in between Deathstroke and the door. “You can’t beat me, Commissioner,” Deathstroke said softly. “Don’t throw your life away.”

“I’m not throwing it away, you mercenary bastard,” Quentin sneered. “She’s my _daughter_. She’s worth more than my life, vigilante or no!” Quentin raised his weapon and fired again and again, aiming for Deathstroke’s single remaining eye. The ablative titanium helmet deflected the bullets as Deathstroke moved forward and rammed his sword through Quentin’s diaphragm, twisting it slightly. Blood bubbled up out of the commissioner’s mouth as he glared defiantly at Deathstroke.

“You have shown true courage here, Commissioner Lance,” Deathstroke said. “I will honor it by finishing your daughter quickly.” Deathstroke ripped the sword out of Quentin, who collapsed, hands going to the wound in his stomach. Deathstroke kicked the door to the holding area open. There was a single officer there, a woman, and Deathstroke ended what little threat she posed with the stroke of his sword. He turned his attention to the holding cell where Sara Lance stood, watching him with resigned blue eyes even as her mother and sister tried to get her to hide behind them. Deathstroke strode to the cell door and ripped it off its hinges, throwing it aside as he entered the cell. “Your father was a brave man, Miss Lance,” Deathstroke said. “He faced his death with honor. I hope you will show the same level of courage. Your mother and sister need not die as your father has. You need only surrender yourself to me to ensure their survival.”

“NO!” Dinah bawled, both at the implication that her husband was dead and at the insinuation that Sara should give her life for her. “No, Sara! Don’t give yourself up for me! I’ve lived a full life! I have no regrets!” Dinah intersected herself between Deathstroke and Sara. “If you want my daughter, you’ll have to kill me, as well!”

“Mom, no!” Sara shouted desperately. Laurel was sobbing from the news her father was dead, at the threat posed against both she and her mother, and at her mother’s willingness to sacrifice herself to save Sara. _Ollie!_ Sara called in her mind. _If you can hear this, I need you! We need you! Please!_

Barely a moment later, a presence filled the room as The Spectre appeared between Dinah and Deathstroke. The Spectre wasted no time. He flared a hand in Deathstroke’s direction, and the mercenary was thrown out of the cell and through the wall of the precinct, back out onto the street. The Spectre glided after him, arriving outside as the mercenary clambered to his feet. Both were well-aware of the press aiming their cameras, the jabber of reporters as they announced the updates to their likely-frightened viewers, who would have heard the sharp retorts of pistol fire and screams from inside the precinct. “ **Slade Wilson,** ” The Spectre said softly. “ **You have been judged and found wanting. You have killed 634 people, all for money or in the service of H.I.V.E. You are sentenced, body and soul, to the deepest circles of hell.** ” The Spectre’s hand raised and waved across Deathstroke, who wailed in agony as he was engulfed in flames that transported him to begin serving out his punishment.

“Spectre!” a voice shouted, and The Spectre turned. “Did you come to help The Canary?”

“ **Whether Sara Lance is The Canary or not is irrelevant,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **Deathstroke the Terminator is, or was, a clear and present danger to innocent lives. Now, excuse me…** ” The Spectre returned to the precinct and quickly located the Lance women. They had exited the cell and were now just outside the holding area, kneeling next to Quentin, whose eyes were already glazed by death. “ **I am sorry,** ” The Spectre said softly. “ **I can tell you that he is at peace.** ”

“Thank you,” Dinah said wetly. “Not only for that. For stopping that man. I know my husband hated you for what you did, but I once knew your predecessor. He was a good man, and I don’t doubt you are, too.”

“Is there nothing you can do?” Sara asked The Spectre desperately. The last things she and her father had said to one another had been in anger. That couldn’t be how things ended; it just couldn’t!

“ **Restoring him now would mean ripping his soul from heaven, forcing him to relive the agony of his death,** ” The Spectre replied softly, putting a hand on Sara’s shoulder. “ **Is that what you wish, Sara?** ”

“No,” Sara choked out. “I just- the last things we said to each other… it was-”

“ **Your father knew you still loved him, Sara,** ” The Spectre replied, “ **and his last act was one of love, standing between you and certain death. But perhaps there is _something_ I can do, with him being freshly deceased.**” The Spectre bowed his head and clasped his hands together in a manner reminiscent of prayer. A moment later, the ghostly shade of Quentin Lance appeared beside him.

“Daddy,” Sara said wetly, going to embrace him, but her hands falling through his form like mist. “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I was just so angry at being caught like that. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Quentin said, reaching a pearly hand out and touching Sara’s cheek, which was wet with tears. “I know you didn’t mean it. I love you, baby. I will always love you. But don’t you dare think of going off on some vengeance spree. I don’t wanna see you here until you’re old and gray, with a good man or woman at your side and a bunch of kids left behind as a legacy, ya hear?”

“I do, Daddy,” Sara whispered.

“Dad,” Laurel whispered painfully.

“You’ll be fine, Laurel,” Quentin said. “You all will. You’ve still got each other. I know things were tense, but I never stopped loving any of you. I was just worried about what this meant for all of us.” He turned his attention to his wife. “Di, I love you, and I’ll be waiting here for you when you arrive. But don’t let that be anytime soon, okay?”

“I love you, too, Quentin,” Dinah whispered softly. “I’ll take care of our girls. I promise you.”

“I had better go, Sara’s friend can’t maintain this for long,” Quentin said. He turned to The Spectre. “I know who you are now, and I’m surprised. But I see things differently from this end of things. Keep my family safe. Please.”

“ **You have my word, Quentin,** ” The Spectre said respectfully, and lowered his hands, the glow fading along with the image of Quentin. He turned his attention to the Lances. “ **I hope this has helped you in some small way. I am truly sorry for your loss. Be assured, the one responsible is paying for it.** ”

“What happened to him?” Dinah asked angrily.

“ **He has been sentenced, body and soul, to the lowest circle of hell,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **He has joined the human trafficker, John Byrne, in this sentence.** ”

“Good,” Dinah said vengefully. “Whatever torment hell comes up with isn’t good enough, but it’ll have to do.”

The Spectre placed his hand on Sara’s shoulder one more time, giving it a gentle squeeze, then turned and faded from view even as S.W.A.T. arrived. **_*4*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* I decided pretty quickly that I wanted Laurel to be the one to defend Sara, and I wanted to get across in this segment that Sara’s life is truly in danger if she were to get sent to prison to await trial, and this was why she was thinking how at least the city still has Oliver during the last chapter.
> 
> *2* The idea of Slade (aka, the Terminator) coming after Sara at a police station was one me and Phillipe363 kinda bounced between us in PMs over on FFN when I was initially writing this story.
> 
> *3* The police really did jump the gun. They slapped the cuffs on Sara, then slapped a meta-dampener on her without making sure she was actually a meta. So, the judge couldn’t really throw the book at her.
> 
> *4* Writing this entire sequence of events was heart-wrenching because I knew Quentin would never willingly step aside and Slade’s not gonna just toss him aside to get to his target. I kinda choked up when I wrote the scene with Quentin’s spirit.


	12. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT A/N: Okay, posting this here since I’m pretty sure readers of this story are entirely different, for the most part, from those reading “Dawn”. I’ve recently been seriously hit with the urge to write something original. It’s been building for weeks and it finally boiled over. What this means is that I will be focusing primarily on an original project (currently just doing ‘market research’, aka reading YA books of similar type), but that I will try to write at least one chapter a day for my fan fiction projects. Considering I don’t see this story lasting much longer, I’m gonna devote my focus to it first. One of the downsides to creating a more or less all-powerful being and making them the protagonist of a story is they tend to wipe the floor with everyone. Plus, people pointed out just how powerful The Spectre is supposed to be.

Within minutes of The Spectre’s departure, the 1st Precinct was swarming with officers and C.S.U. Dinah, Laurel, and Sara had been taken to an interview room and given blankets, which they wrapped around themselves, each of them lost in thought of what had happened today.

Dinah Lance was in shock. Her husband, the man she loved, the man she had defied her wealthy Gothamite parents to marry, was gone. She had gotten to say goodbye, and she would abide by his request to not follow too soon, to be there for their girls, but he was still gone, and her heart ached with the knowledge that she would never again see him smile or tease the girls, would never again hear his wry chuckle at something Laurel, Sara, or Dinah herself had said. She would never feel his lips on hers again, never feel his arms around her. Tears streamed down Dinah’s cheeks as she contemplated the magnitude of the loss that she had suffered today, and the loss that could have been if Jim’s successor hadn’t come and stopped that armored man from killing her daughter.

Laurel Merlyn was trembling, her mother’s right arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her hands were clenched together, her fingers shaking slightly and her right leg bouncing up and down in nervousness. Her father was dead. Her father, one of the few constants in her life, was gone. Her father, who she had admired so much that she followed him into public service, though as a lawyer instead of as a police officer (he wouldn’t let her apply to the police academy). It didn’t seem real. She had seen his body; she had seen his spirit thanks to The Spectre, had gotten the chance to say goodbye. But the loss didn’t seem real, somehow, like she was observing it. Laurel knew intellectually that that was because she was still dealing with the shock of everything and that, when it finally drained away, she would feel every bit of the sorrow and anguish coursing through her. But for now, she tried to draw comfort from the fact that she still had her mother and her sister, and that the man who had taken Quentin from them was quite literally rotting in hell if The Spectre was to be believed.

Sara Lance couldn’t stop crying. Her father was dead. _Her father was dead._ Yes, they had been able to patch things up thanks to Ollie, but that didn’t erase the fact that their last words to each other while he had been alive had been vitriolic. More importantly, her father wouldn’t _be_ dead if she hadn’t been caught, if Deathstroke (yes, she had recognized their attacker from Batman’s files on various enemies) hadn’t come after her. She was sure it was Deathstroke who had tried to put a bullet in her back last night and that this was him trying to finish the job he started. Quentin, of course, wouldn’t have let a mercenary gut his daughter like a trout, no matter how many problems they had between them, and he had stood alone against Deathstroke the Terminator. Sara, Laurel, and Dinah had all heard those final shots and realized it must be Quentin, standing between his daughter and someone who sought her death for her actions as The Canary. When the gunfire had stopped, they had hoped whoever it was had just knocked Quentin out. But then Deathstroke had confirmed that he had killed Quentin, and Sara had despaired. Sara didn’t even know which of her enemies had hired Deathstroke, and now no one would, unless Ollie could figure it out somehow. So, without an enemy to focus on, Sara was drowning in despair at the knowledge that she would never again hug her father, never again tell him she loved him, never again feel the warmth of his love for her. Sara’s body shook with deep, wracking sobs as she leaned against her mother, who was sitting between she and Laurel, her arms around the both of them, holding her daughters close even as tears streamed down her cheeks as she grieved their mutual loss.

Dinah, Laurel, and Sara didn’t know how long they were in the interview room waiting, but eventually the door opened and Captain Franklin Pike entered along with Tommy Merlyn and Robert Queen. Laurel was instantly on her feet and rushing into her husband’s arms, renewed sobs breaking from her, and Tommy took her in his arms, rubbing circles on her back and telling her it was going to be okay. Robert, meanwhile, approached Dinah and Sara. “Dinah, I am so sorry about Quentin,” Robert said. “If there’s anything I can do…”

“There’s nothing you can do, Robert, except make sure Quentin receives the send-off he deserves,” Dinah said. “My husband stood against that mercenary knowing he would die but he did it anyways to save Sara’s life. He may not have worn a mask, but Quentin was every inch a hero for this city as a vigilante could be.”

“Of course, Quentin will have the best service possible,” Robert said. “If you need someplace to stay while all of this dies down, the mansion is always open. Oliver suggested it, actually, and I agree with him. We can hire the best security in the city so nothing like this can happen again.”

“I-I think I may take you up on that offer, Quentin,” Dinah said, before turning to Sara. “Sara? Do you want to take Robert’s offer?”

“Won’t this cause problems for you?” Sara asked, looking at Robert. Her issues with Robert seemed so petty now, especially in the face of the genuine grief he, too, was feeling at Quentin’s loss. “I mean, considering what I’m accused of and all?”

“That doesn’t matter, Sara,” Robert said. “Your family is as close to ours as the Merlyns, and we’re all in this together. We won’t abandon you and your mother now that Quentin’s gone. It isn’t what he would’ve wanted. He would’ve wanted you safe, regardless of whether you actually are The Canary or this is some horrible misunderstanding. You have a room at the mansion if you need it, you _and_ your mother. I suspect Tommy and Laurel will be staying at Merlyn Manor for a while since it’s got better security for the same reasons.”

“If-If you really are okay with it… then yes,” Sara said. “Thank you, Mr. Queen.”

“Yes, thank you, Robert,” Dinah said. “We’ll get our things and come out to the mansion immediately.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Robert said, putting a hand on Dinah’s shoulder comfortingly. “Now, I have to go talk to the press. I’ll do my best to keep them from bothering you when you leave, but, well, you know how the press can be.”

“Yes, we know,” Dinah said quietly. “Do what you can, Robert.”

Tommy led Laurel out of the room after Robert, leaving Sara and Dinah alone. “What do you think he’s doing?” Sara asked quietly.

“Who? Robert?” Dinah asked.

“No,” Sara said softly. “The Spectre. Whoever sent Deathstroke after me caused a lot of deaths. Isn’t that the kind of thing he renders judgment over?”

“It is,” Dinah said quietly. “And I suspect what you think is right. The Spectre is likely working to uncover the truth, and from there, he will act in judgment.”

“Good,” Sara said savagely. “Whoever did this deserves whatever he does to them and more.”

“Yes,” Dinah said. “Yes, they do.” **_*1*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver Queen felt numb as he sat in his desk chair in his bedroom. He had returned to the Queen Mansion after giving the Lances a chance to say goodbye to Quentin and managed to catch his father before he headed out the door, suggesting that they offer Sara and Dinah, at least, rooms in the mansion until all of this was over. Robert had agreed that they should and said he would make the offers when he saw them. Afterwards, Oliver had retreated to his bedroom, where he had remained since, trying to come to terms with the fact that Quentin Lance was once again dead. For Oliver, the man had barely been alive again a few weeks, and now he was gone, gone because of Slade Wilson, because of the man Oliver had considered a brother on both Earth-1 and here on Earth-Prime. Worse, it had come about at the request of another man Oliver had considered a ‘brother’ in both worlds, Anatoli Knyasev. Oliver had hesitated over doing anything to Slade and Anatoli because of his past with them in both worlds, and because of his hesitation, Quentin Lance had died, leaving a devastated family behind.

But now… if Oliver didn’t need to be here for the time being, didn’t need to be here when Sara and Dinah arrived, he would be beginning to make Anatoli pay for his actions. It wouldn’t be enough to just judge Anatoli… no, Oliver wanted to savor the anticipation in this instance. He wanted Anatoli to know that judgment was coming for him, that he could not escape his just rewards, and he wanted to take everything Anatoli cared about away from him. That meant that Oliver _couldn’t_ go right for Anatoli at the moment. No, in this instance, he would begin by dismantling the Bratva, one chapter at a time. Considering his powers, he could make short work of the Bratva and be ready to confront Anatoli within a week. In truth, he could probably just reach out with his powers and kill every member of the Bratva right here and now, but he wanted them to know that they were being hunted for their crimes. They were _all_ guilty of so many heinous crimes, of causing so much pain, suffering, misery, and death. They would _all_ be judged by the time that Oliver was through. **_*2*_**

But he would also need to be here for Sara, and he would be, Oliver vowed. Sara was now facing trial for being The Canary, and while he had saved Sara in the moment, Oliver knew his appearance at the precinct would raise questions and make people think that Sara _had_ to be The Canary since The Spectre had come to help her. He would support his friend the way his friends, his wife, and his son had supported him when he stood trial courtesy of Ricardo Diaz and offer a silent support to his friend. As it was, the only reason Sara hadn’t been accepted was because Quentin couldn’t accept the help of vigilantes, but Oliver’s own father could make that go away by having the new commissioner disband the Anti-Vigilante Task Force and accept the help of The Canary and, to a lesser extent, The Spectre. Oliver would speak to his father when he got the chance. If the Mayor came out in support of The Canary, it could end up that the case would be thrown out completely. Robert could even approach the governor for a pardon for Sara, clearing up the matter for good. After all, Sara had been targeting human traffickers, rapists, drug dealers, and more. She hadn’t been targeting the one percent, like Oliver had done in his own initial crusade.

Though if Sara did end up recognized as The Canary, it probably meant her career as a doctor was over. Her actions as a vigilante were in direct contradiction to one of the principal tenets of the Hippocratic oath: _do no harm._ Sara would have to find some other way to support herself, and Oliver knew whatever that way was, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to afford the place she was currently living. She would have to downgrade, get someplace like where Laurel had lived on Earth-1 or even a place in the Glades, which brought with it its own dangers. Sara was an excellent fighter, but in the end, she was only human, and she could be killed by a hitman’s bullet the same as anyone else (except for Oliver, of course). **_*3*_**

No, the best option would be if they could put the genie back in the bottle, but Oliver was at a loss for how to do that, especially since the press were bound to speculate that Deathstroke had been the one to take the shot at Sara in the first place that led to her capture, indicating he knew for a fact that Sara was The Canary. Not to mention, Oliver had made her suit bulletproof and that was going to be obvious once the fact her suit had held up to a sniper’s bullet was known. Once both of those things were out there, it would be a tough sell, especially since they didn’t know any other female vigilantes who could match Sara’s skill and pretend to be The Canary while Sara was elsewhere, like Oliver had done with Dig.

Oliver felt the moment Sara entered the grounds of the Queen Mansion in her mother’s car. Her soul was morose, devastated by the loss of her father. Oliver stood from his seat and headed downstairs so that he could be there to greet Sara and help her with her things. Oliver made it to the front entrance hall just as the doorbell rang, and he was the one who opened the door to find Sara and Dinah on the other side, towing suitcases, both puffy-eyed from crying. “Mrs. Lance, Sara, come on in,” he said quietly. “I’m _so_ sorry for your loss. Quentin was a good man.”

“Thank you, Oliver,” Dinah said as she and Sara entered, Oliver stepping aside to let them pass by him. “It’s good to see you again. I just wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances.”

“As do I,” Oliver said as Raisa appeared. “Raisa will show you to your room, Mrs. Lance. Sara, I’ll show you to yours. I can take that, if you want.”

“No, I got it, Ollie,” Sara said quietly, “but thanks.” Oliver nodded and led Sara up the left-hand staircase while Raisa led Dinah up the right-hand staircase. Once they were well away from anyone who could hear, Sara said, “I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you would be out hunting.”

“I still have to make appearances as Oliver Queen, and two of my closest friends just suffered a devastating loss,” Oliver said. “My place is here. I don’t need to sleep. I can handle my other business at night when people won’t be checking in on me. But I already know who’s ultimately responsible for this, and I am making plans to make him pay.”

“Who?” Sara asked as they came to a stop in front of a guest bedroom.

“Anatoli Knyasev,” Oliver said quietly. “He and Deathstroke have history, a history I share with both of them. I should have taken care of them before I came to Star City. But I didn’t, even though I knew they served evil causes. What happened to Quentin is ultimately my fault, Sara, not yours. If I had acted when I should have, Anatoli and Slade would both be dead before now and your father would still be alive. You wouldn’t have been attacked and exposed as The Canary. None of this would be happening if I had just taken action. I’m sorry.”

Sara and Oliver entered the bedroom, and Sara dropped her suitcase on the floor. She reached up and framed Oliver’s face with her hands. “You don’t owe me an apology, Oliver,” Sara said quietly. “You’re not all-powerful and all-knowing. You’re not God. You couldn’t have known what would happen, that Anatoli Knyasev would hire Deathstroke to kill me. You provided me with the protection that kept me alive, and you came when I needed you. You have nothing to be sorry for. But I do. I’m the one who became The Canary, who hid it from everyone. If I hadn’t done that, Knyasev would never have been trying to have me killed in the first place.”

“Sounds like we’re both taking the blame for what happened,” Oliver said quietly, reaching up and clutching Sara’s hands with his. “Maybe we _both_ need to realize we did the best we could with what we were given. And would you really trade all of the good you did away, even for Quentin? Would he want you to?”

“No, maybe not,” Sara said after a moment. “But it _hurts_ , Ollie. He was my Dad. He was _always_ there for me, and even if things had been strained between us because of my supporting, well, _me_ , I always knew he still loved me. Even when I was being booked, I thought he looked like he wanted to stop what was happening, because despite his anger, he loved me. Dad paid the ultimate price for his love, and that _hurts_.”

“Dying in the place of their child is something _any_ parent would do,” Oliver said quietly as he and Sara’s hands dropped to their sides.

“No offense, but _how_ would you know that?” Sara asked.

“When I became The Spectre, I had an influx of information to deal with about my own life, all the things I didn’t know which had to do with me,” Oliver said, coming up with a story on the spot. “Among those things is the fact that I have a son out there. He’s going to be fourteen this year. He was conceived during a mixer where I got _very_ drunk when I was twenty. Laurel had been playing sober sister. She doesn’t know about this. I told Mom, and she said she would handle it. Turns out her way of handling it was to bribe Samantha to tell me that she had lost the baby and then leave town.”

“Wow,” Sara said softly. “Have you thought about being part of his life?”

“I’m in no position to be a father, and his life is pretty well-established,” Oliver said quietly. “At this point, I wouldn’t help his life. I would be making it more difficult as he suddenly adjusted to having a father. Maybe if he was younger, I would think it would be a good idea, but this? It’s too late for me to be his father, Sara. No, he’s better off without me in his life, even before you get into the fact that I am the literal Angel of Vengeance, dispensing brutal justice on the guilty. If anyone were to ever find out about my being The Spectre _and_ that I had a son out there, he would be in danger from every single villain in the world so that they could try and bend me to their will.”

“I get it,” Sara said quietly after a moment. “Mom, Da- Mom and Laurel are always telling me to look for someone, and while I’ve had a few relationships, none of them stick, because I can’t trust them with my secret and I can’t give them what they want, especially the men. The men always want kids, and after seeing all of the cruelty in this world while traveling with Doctors Without Borders, the last thing I want to do is bring a child into this world, especially when they would be in danger. Now that I’ve probably been exposed for good, that’s pretty much a guarantee. Any child of The Canary would be in as much danger from my enemies as your son would be in from yours.” She chuckled wryly. “It’s kind of funny we ended up being so similar despite not seeing each other for thirteen years.” **_*4*_**

“I think we have a lot of similarities, Sara,” Oliver said quietly. “Which means, if nothing else, that you’ve always got me in your corner. If you need a friendly ear, someone to vent at, whatever, you come to me.”

“Right back at you,” Sara said with a tremulous smile.

“I’ll leave you to get settled,” Oliver said quietly and turned to go.

“Ollie?” Sara asked as he neared the door, causing him to turn back. “What exactly are you going to do with Knyasev?”

“I’m going to destroy everything he cares about, and then I’m going to kill him,” Oliver said. “The Bratva are about to become extinct.”

“ _Good,_ ” Sara hissed viciously. “If it’s not too much trouble… Can I be there when you deal with him?”

Oliver studied Sara for a moment, then nodded as a thought began percolating in his mind. He would say nothing for now, wait to see how he felt in the moment it happened, but for now, he could at least accommodate Sara’s desire to be there when Anatoli died. “You can,” Oliver said quietly.

“Then I’ll be waiting for that day,” Sara said quietly.

Oliver smiled at her and then turned back to the door, exiting the bedroom and leaving Sara to get settled.

**_*DC*_ **

Later that day, after Robert had returned to the Queen Mansion but before night fell, Oliver asked his father for a private word. Robert led him to his home office, where they closed the doors, and Robert turned to his son. “What can I do for you, Oliver?” Robert asked.

“I think we both know there’s no chance of putting the genie back in the bottle for Sara,” Oliver said, having thought about this all day and having found not a single way to put an end to Sara's exposure. The only option would be if Oliver could erase the knowledge from every mind in the world and destroy all documents surrounding The Canary’s arrest. But Oliver knew it would take a great deal of power to do so, and the truth was, doing so was _not_ an act of justice. It would be a selfish act, one meant to help his friend _evade_ justice, and that could see The Voice rebuke him harshly, perhaps even _limit_ his powers as The Spectre. So, this needed to be dealt with in another fashion. “It’s not a matter of ‘Is she guilty of being the Canary?’ It’s a matter of ‘what does Star City say about vigilantes?’ Quentin was a good man, but from what I can tell, he was in the minority when it comes to accepting the help of vigilantes like Batman, Superman, Supergirl, Sara, and more. If you came out in support of Sara, that could make this all go away, especially if you approached the governor for a pardon. Can you honestly say she hasn’t been making the city a better place?”

Robert met his son’s gaze. “No, I can’t say that,” he said quietly. “And believe me, son, I have been thinking about this all day, ever since the news revealed that Sara was The Canary. I was stunned, of course, because I’ve known Sara since she was a little girl and you and Tommy first befriended Laurel and her. But as far as her actions are concerned… yes, she has been targeting no one but criminals, and she has been making sure that justice is done, albeit in a more violent fashion than our police forces do. My problem is that if I _do_ come out in support of Sara, if I _do_ get her off the hook for this, it will be _known_ that she is The Canary. Not only will she be in danger, but her being let off the hook will open up a storm of petitions from lawyers to reopen the cases of their clients who Sara had a role in catching, especially since Sara’s sister and father were the D.A. and Commissioner all that time. No one is going to believe that Laurel and Quentin didn’t know that Sara was The Canary, and all of them are going to say that Quentin’s pursuit of The Canary was for show, that he didn’t believe his daughter would ever be caught despite his putting together a special task force.”

“Dad, there’s no way to avoid Sara being known as The Canary,” Oliver said quietly. “That ship sailed the moment that mercenary took a shot at her and put her in this position. She’s just like every other vigilante out there, albeit a little more on the brutal side. That storm of attempts to overturn convictions, it’s going to happen no matter what. I know for a fact that you have always supported Superman. If you can support a complete stranger who you’ve never met, how can you _not_ support a woman who you’ve known practically her entire life? Dad, please. End this. You’re the only one who can.”

Robert considered his son for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll handle all of this tomorrow,” he said, “so that Sara can be free by the end of the week and get back to what she’s been doing. Tonight… Tonight we grieve the loss of a good man.”

“Yes,” Oliver said quietly, thinking of his own plans for the night. “We do.” **_*5*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* Writing this scene was a little tough since I had to explore the grief over Quentin’s death, but that’s still going to be a thing moving forward, because you don’t just get over the death of someone close to you. That’s going to be a thing for Sara and her family as well as Oliver.
> 
> *2* Well, it’s the death knell for the Bratva, because their big boss has managed to raise the ire of The Spectre.
> 
> *3* One thing I like exploring when a hero is exposed in my stories with no way to put the genie back in the bottle is the consequences of that exposure. In the Riseverse, that took the form of Oliver’s income bracket being very uncomfortable around him since he’s a “modern-day Robin Hood”, and for Laurel, it took the form of her being given a choice: stop being Black Canary or be permanently disbarred and banned from practicing law.
> 
> *4* Sara and Oliver in this scene are being realistic, something the “Arrow” showrunners know nothing about. The sad truth is that a life of vigilantism, and especially of public heroism, means that the people you love will always be in danger. While Oliver and Sara can both take care of themselves, a child would be defenseless against their enemies, and neither want to paint a target on a child’s head because of their chosen paths as vigilantes. In the comics, Oliver and Dinah seem to not settle down and start thinking of raising a child until they’re up close to forty, and even then, Dinah expresses an uncertainty about bringing a child into their world (“The Longbow Hunters”, if I remember reading that comic right).
> 
> *5* I’m taking creative license with the idea that Robert, as mayor, can put an end to this by coming out in support of Sara and getting a pardon from the state governor if need be (one thing I didn’t know is that some states do give their governors the ability to issue pardons). But one can generally assume that in other cities where heroes/vigilantes have taken up residence, either the police commissioner or the mayor or both are in open support of that vigilante helping apprehend criminals, whether they’re as pacifistic as Superman, who just knocks people out with a pat on the head, or as brutal as Batman, who leaves criminals broken and bleeding so they can’t get back up and attack him again.


	13. The Bratva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, this is the only other new chapter I have written, but I *am* working on the next one. Considering I feel I’m nearing the end of this story, I might end up focusing on “The Spectre” when I am working on fan fiction just so I can get it finished.

The Spectre appeared on the street outside of Gregorovitch Autobody, the shop that was the front for the Russian Bratva in Star City. He had sensed the Bratva were gathering, no doubt planning a massive attack on the Queen Mansion to capture The Canary and bring her back here to rape, mutilate, and murder for all of the trouble that she had caused them. They would no doubt have taken Mia as well, while killing the rest of The Spectre’s family, the night staff, and Dinah. The Spectre checked the building again and found that they were _all_ here. Good. He could deal with the entire chapter at once. He ghosted through the door of the shop as if it wasn’t there, then moved to the stairwell, floating down it silently and arriving in the midst of the Bratva, who were arming up with an eager villainy, thoughts of what they would do to Sara when they had her in their grasp prevalent and at the forefront of their minds. Before the Bratva could react to his sudden appearance, The Spectre flared a hand, an energy wave emitting from his form and spreading outward, striking each member of the Bratva and freezing them in place.

“ **Rape,** ” The Spectre intoned. “ **Murder. Human trafficking. Drug trafficking. Arms trafficking. Assassination. Assault. The blood of innocents stains you all, and thanks to Anatoli Knyasev, my eye is now fixed upon your entire organization. You have been judged and found wanting. May all that you have visited upon the innocent be visited upon you a thousand-fold.** ” The Spectre sent another wave of energy out at the Bratva, releasing them even as his judgment was rendered. Screams of agony and terror erupted from nearly a hundred throats as weapons were dropped, deep, cutting wounds opened in their bodies, they felt as though they themselves were being raped as they had hundreds of women, and finally being left to die from multiple kinds of wounds, from bullet holes that appeared without a single shot being fired to cut throats to being gutted to being strangled to having their necks broken and their bodies shattered, as if they had been dropped from a great height. Those few who didn’t die immediately were left gurgling as they drowned in their own blood, The Spectre watching dispassionately as they expired.

Once the last soul left the bodies, The Spectre considered his next move. To crush the international Bratva, he would have to spend every night traveling to other cities where the Bratva were located and hunt down each of their members, since not _all_ of them would be gathered in one spot as the Star City chapter had been, at least if he wanted to give each of these a personal touch as he had with these. He also knew that he would probably need to deal with those in Metropolis, Gotham, and possibly National City tonight. Luckily, he had noted the arrival of Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and Kara Danvers in Star City over the course of the past few hours, which meant that he could probably act in Metropolis and National City easily enough unless the Super cousins were keeping an ear on their cities. As for Gotham… well, if Bruce Wayne was truly so foolish as to try and stop him from destroying the Bratva, he could be embarrassed again and again as far as The Spectre was concerned. He decided to leave Gotham for last, since if he did it first, Batman would probably inform Superman of his actions, and The Spectre would rather avoid needless confrontations.

The Spectre shifted to a rooftop in National City and stretched out, sensing those who were members of the Bratva. Like he suspected, not all were together. There was a large group of them at their headquarters here in National City, another group at a strip club, and still another group at a nightclub that they presumably ran, where the waitresses were expected to service the clientele if asked. The Spectre’s lip curled in disgust and he decided he would leave the headquarters for last. Those at the strip club and the nightclub were currently engaging in more criminal behaviors than they were already guilty of.

The Spectre shifted to the strip club first, appearing in the center of room, where the members of the Bratva were gathered around one of the stages, hooting with laughter and making lewd comments about the woman on the stage. The Spectre could _feel_ the woman’s fear and discomfort, despite the easy smile she gave the men, her knowledge that these men wanted nothing more than to corner her after her shift was done and have some fun with her, and that no one would come to help her. The Spectre waved a hand as all talk and activity died as the patrons of the club registered his presence, an energy emitting from his hand and striking the Bratva in front of him. Like those at the autobody shop, they froze in place, and he made a turning motion with his hand, turning their frozen forms to face him. “ **Rape, murder, human trafficking,** ” The Spectre said softly. “ **You have been judged and found wanting. As you poison society, so shall you be poisoned.** ” The Spectre waved a hand before him, transmuting the blood of the men in front of him into a virulent poison that left them frothing at the mouth and bleeding from the eyes and nostrils. They collapsed. The Spectre tilted his head, and then snapped his fingers. Instantly, the necks of over twenty men snapped and they dropped to the ground, eyes unseeing. “ **None who would do wicked to the innocent shall live this night,** ” The Spectre said, “ **nor for many nights to come.** ”

With the remaining patrons of the strip club petrified by the sheer power he possessed, The Spectre turned and transported himself to the next target, the nightclub. When he appeared, people backed away, many of them having seen his actions with Deathstroke earlier that day on the news. The Spectre ignored the bulk of the patrons as he floated up to the VIP section, where the Russians were holding court. A fireball appeared in his hand and he blew on it, encircling the Bratva with the emerald green flames, trapping them in their booth. “ **You have been judged and found wanting,** ” The Spectre informed them, reaching out and beginning to slowly close his hand into a fist. The men wailed as they were slowly crushed by an invisible force, their bones breaking and piercing through their flesh as they wailed. The Spectre continued until his fist was tight and the bodies of the men had been crushed into soggy piles of flesh and bone. He let them drop as the fire faded, leaving a burn mark on the carpet.

Finally, The Spectre shifted to outside the building housing the Bratva’s headquarters. He reached out, finding that there were no innocents in the building, only those who did evil. He raised a hand and flared his fingers, and emerald green flames erupted, spreading through the building quickly, consuming everything in their path. The building burned, the flames not touching either of the buildings on either side of it, and The Spectre nodded to himself. Now, it was time for Metropolis, then Gotham. **_*1*_**

**_*DC*_ **

Oliver rolled his head from side-to-side, cracking his neckbones to relieve the strain, as he returned to his bedroom at the Queen Mansion at around six a.m. local time in Star City. It had been a long night, he mused. After he had visited each group in National City, he had considered his options. In the end, he had known that with Gotham and Metropolis, the Bratva would be too widespread, some of them in their homes sleeping, and he didn’t want to hunt them down individually. He had also realized he didn’t want to spend too much time making Anatoli sweat, because the longer Oliver took, the more likely Anatoli was to make a desperate and rash move that could threaten innocents, whether those were the people in the Queen Mansion who Oliver loved or civilians who got caught in the crossfire of some drastic action to keep the Bratva on top.

As a result of these things, Oliver had simply used his powers to snap the necks of every member of the Bratva in Metropolis before using his emerald flames to burn the Bratva in Gotham to ash, a flame that would only burn the one it targeted and leave everything around it untouched. Afterwards, Oliver had traveled all around the country and then the world, killing the Bratva in every city he visited. He had killed thousands of men this night, and when night fell once more, he would finish the job. With any luck, Sara would be free and clear by then thanks to Robert’s political maneuvers and she would be able to join Oliver in bringing Anatoli Knyasev to justice. After the amount of time that she had spent working against Anatoli and his Bratva in Star City, Oliver felt it only right that Sara be there to witness the end of the Bratva, if not take part in Anatoli’s judgment. _Especially_ since Anatoli had sent Slade to kill her, and Slade had killed her father, who had refused to let one of his daughters be killed by a mercenary. **_*2*_**

Oliver undressed and went into the en suite bathroom, taking a shower to wipe the grime and soot from his various judgments off of him. While he _could_ just cleanse himself if he wanted, he had only done that when he first arrived on Earth-Prime because he _had_ to. But he would take part in as many _human_ activities like showering, shaving, eating meals with family and friends, etc., that he possibly could, to stay connected to the people that kept him grounded. These activities were especially necessary after he had acted in judgment for so many people in his role as The Spectre. It would be easy to lose his humanity if he focused solely on his purpose as the Angel of Vengeance, Wrath of God, whatever you wanted to call him.

Oliver finished his shower and returned to his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and selected a suit from his wardrobe, a black Armani with a white gray dress shirt. Dressing quickly, Oliver decided to go for a walk on the grounds of the Queen Mansion, get a breath of fresh air since he had been in crowded cities all night. Oliver walked through the mansion, only slightly surprised when he saw Sara slipping out of her bedroom ahead of him, clad in a casual black outfit. “Morning, Sara,” Oliver said quietly, and she turned, a smile flitting across her face.

“Morning, Ollie,” Sara said just as quietly. “How did last night go?”

“Let’s go for a walk on the grounds, and I’ll tell you about it,” Oliver said, tilting his head towards the stairs, and Sara nodded in agreement, joining him. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Somewhat,” Sara said. “I had a couple of nightmares about what could’ve happened if The Spectre hadn’t shown up.” Considering they were still in the Mansion with people around, Sara knew better than to refer to Oliver directly when speaking of his alter ego. “In my nightmares, I not only saw Dad die, I saw Deathstroke kill Mom and Laurel, too, and then he took his time with me, crushing my throat so I would suffocate. I’m glad he’s dead, and not just because of Dad. I get the feeling he would’ve taken _any_ contract that was put out on me after I managed to evade him twice. It would’ve been a matter of professionalism for him at that point.”

“Yes, I suppose it would have been,” Oliver said as he led Sara through the mansion and out onto the terrace. They walked down the steps onto the grounds. “As to your question… the Bratva are all but extinct. Only the central structure in Moscow remains, and I’ll deal with them tonight. With any luck, Dad will deal with everything with you today, so you can join me. You deserve to be there when Anatoli gets his reward for sending Deathstroke after you.”

“You took them all out in a single night?” Sara asked, stunned.

“At first, I was hunting them down in groups or individually, but I grew tired of that quickly, and I started just going to a city, sensing each member of the Bratva, and using my powers to kill them en masse,” Oliver replied. “Broken necks in Metropolis, immolation in Gotham, skinned alive in New York City and Los Angeles, the sins they’ve committed against the innocent revisited upon them or poison replacing the blood in their veins in pretty much every other major city across the globe… Not one of them survived, and I’m sure the news will be abuzz as to the sudden bouts of death in the world centered around Russians with ties to the Bratva. I’m currently amusing myself with the idea of going to Channel 52 or CNN or some other news channel and telling them why this is, if only to give Anatoli some forewarning. He won’t be able to prepare for me, anyways, but it’d be amusing if he tried.”

“Wow,” Sara said softly. “I guess that’s what it means to be The Spectre. You sit in judgment for hundreds, if not thousands of souls. But you haven’t done anything so widespread before now. Is it because you still feel guilty? For Dad’s death?”

“I suppose part of it is that, yes,” Oliver said quietly. “But another part of it is that the Bratva are guilty of so many heinous crimes, and I can’t countenance that any longer. I’ve held back since I became The Spectre, Sara, because I don’t want to lose touch with my humanity. But there is so much evil at work in the world, so much evil that I can practically taste it. Maybe I shouldn’t be holding back. Maybe I should be going after every last one of these groups and organizations, cleansing the world of their evil. I am, for all intents and purposes, _the_ absolute form of justice. Maybe it’s time I show the world just what that means.” Oliver ran a hand through his hair. “But as I said, I don’t want to lose touch with my humanity.”

“If you need someone to ground you, I’m here,” Sara said softly, taking Oliver’s hand and turning to face him. “You saved my life, twice. Once against the Russians, and again when you changed my suit. Without that, Deathstroke’s bullet would have left me writhing in agony for hours before I finally died. I’m a doctor. I know _exactly_ where Deathstroke was aiming to hit me based on where the bullet struck. It wouldn’t have been somewhere doctors could get to easily, and more than likely, I’d have died on the operating table. So, you saved me twice. If you need someone to save you from losing your humanity, then you got me, Ollie.”

“Thank you, Sara,” Oliver said, reaching up and tenderly fingering her jawline. Sara smiled softly at him with something shining in those ice-blue eyes of hers, and for a moment, Oliver was back in the days before Sara traded herself back to the League of Assassins in exchange for help with Slade’s Mirakuru army, back in the various times where Sara had been there for him when no one else had, when she had told him not to treat her like she was other people, because she wasn’t. She was one of his oldest friends, one of the few who knew him best, and in this world, Oliver had acknowledged her attraction to him but not acted on it, even though he would admit to finding her very attractive himself. For a moment, it was as though he was with the old Sara, and before he knew it, Oliver was leaning down. Sara met him halfway, her lips meeting his, and they kissed with a longing, the longing of two people who have been searching for someone to share their life with, for since Oliver had let go of his past and embraced his new memories from Earth-Prime, he had had the aching loneliness of no companionship for thirteen years.

The two of them pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining,” Sara said softly, “but where did that come from?”

“Sorry,” Oliver said quietly. “It’s just… I’ve been alone for so long, and you’re the only one I’m really connecting with, especially since Tommy and Laurel have their own lives, their own careers, and can never know who I truly am. It was wrong of me to do that, especially when you’re grieving for Quentin. I-I should go.” Oliver turned to do just that, but Sara caught his sleeve.

“Hey, I could’ve refused that kiss, pushed you away,” Sara said putting a hand on his cheek and turning his head to face her. “I didn’t. Do you think I haven’t noticed the little things, Ollie, since you got back? The way you eyed my breasts when you modified my suit, the glance you stole at my leg the other night after dinner, the way you’ve been complimenting me and trying to get me to blush… I’ve kind of got the picture that you were having an attraction to me. And I have one to you, too. I have since we were kids, but I could never act on it because you were with Laurel.”

“But I just got back, I shouldn’t be leaping into a relationship,” Oliver said.

“Why not?” Sara asked, meeting his aquamarine eyes with her ice-blue ones. “Because people will talk about us moving too fast? Ollie, I’m a vigilante and you’re the damned Wrath of God, for crying out loud. Do normal rules _really_ apply to us? If anything, this is the most _normal_ thing in our lives right now, and I, for one, could use that right about now.” Sara moved closer and wrapped her arms around Oliver, and Oliver instantly did the same to her, kissing her forehead, and Sara closed her eyes. “I could never be with anyone else because of the expectations, Ollie. Some would expect me to give up being The Canary. Others, especially men, would want me to have kids, biological or adopted. You’re like me, and you’re not going to pressure me to give up who I am or to do things I’m not comfortable with. I value that, especially now that I’m probably exposed for good.” **_*3*_**

“I talked to Dad yesterday about throwing his support behind you,” Oliver said. “With any luck, you’ll be free and clear by tonight, though I expect you and Dinah will still be staying here for a few days while things cool down. Have you thought about what your being exposed means for your career?”

“Yeah,” Sara said quietly as they began walking the grounds again. “Do no harm… I haven’t really been following that one, beating Russians to a pulp, tuning up rapists and pimps, and all of that. I’m sure to face a disciplinary board by the end of the month. So, I’m gonna take a look at some other options. Maybe I’ll do a flower shop or something like that.”

“A flower shop?” Oliver questioned.

“In my work as The Canary, and even in my work as a doctor, I’ve been surrounded by the ugliness and darkness of the world, Ollie,” Sara said. “It might do my soul some good to be surrounded by life and beauty.”

“Well, if you need start up funds…” Oliver said leadingly.

“I appreciate it, but I have plenty of money,” Sara said. “I may not be a billionaire or anything, but aside from my apartment, my biggest costs come from my work as a vigilante and maintaining a healthy diet. That leaves me with plenty of money. I can rent a nice little space somewhere and set up a floral shop. It’ll be nice, assuming I have to take things that far. Who knows? Maybe the disciplinary board will decide I’m not using my medical knowledge to cause harm and I can still practice medicine. Of course, I _am_ using my medical knowledge to debilitate the bad guys, so…”

“Yeah,” Oliver said quietly. “I’m sorry, Sara.”

“It’s okay,” Sara said with a sigh. “So, exactly what kind of evil forces are at work in the world that you figure you’ll need to deal with?”

“Well, organized crime is a definite, they’re all as bad as the Bratva, even if some of them are more ‘civilized’,” Oliver said. “There’s a few ‘stand-alone’ villain types, some of them simply corrupt with blackened hearts. Then there’s the rest of Batman’s enemies in Arkham Asylum. There’s a couple of groups out there, the Ninth Circle and H.I.V.E., that need to be taken off the board. Then there’s something called Project Cadmus run by a pair of military generals, one of whom is known for experimenting on his men to try and give them powers. I can also see myself continually coming into conflict with Wayne and Kent.”

“Superman is more reasonable,” Sara said. “He might take a few tries, but he’ll eventually get the message. Batman on the other hand… he’s been at this for twenty years, and he’s set in his ways and wants everyone to follow his rules, even though they’re fucking hypocritical. He gets after me for breaking pimps’ arms when he routinely breaks the legs and arms of his enemies’ lackeys.”

“Yes, I suspect that, at the end of all of this, I’ll have no choice but to reveal Wayne’s identity,” Oliver said. “He can reveal who I am if need be. I have nothing to hide. I won’t actively expose myself, but I won’t deny it if someone confronts me about being The Spectre, either. I was chosen to act as God’s hand in matters of justice. Why would I deny such a thing, even if before that I had believed the benevolent God churches preach about couldn’t possibly exist? As it is, I can now say He does. He gave me a chance to be with all of you again, a second chance at life. I’m not going to waste it, in any fashion.” Oliver smiled at Sara, who smiled back as they started back towards the mansion. “Assuming that Dad does get everything sorted, I’ve been considering the final judgment for Anatoli. The truth is, you’ve been fighting him and his thugs all of this time. It only seems right that you not only be there for this, but that you could help in rendering his judgment.”

“How do you mean?” Sara asked.

“I could strip him of the super-strength he was given through an experiment, render him a normal man again,” Oliver replied. “That would allow you to deal with him yourself without having to worry about him breaking you in half. He’s still a damn good, brutal fighter, though.”

“What if your Dad doesn’t get this all sorted?” Sara asked.

“Then we still deal with Anatoli tonight, but I’ll have to remove the meta-dampener,” Oliver said. “Unless you want to beat him without your Canary Cry.”

“I can do it either way, with or without my gear and my Cry,” Sara said quietly. “It’s hard to imagine that I could be free of the Bratva after tonight. Of course, depending on how things are going with Knyasev right now, he might actually be hiring every hitman he can to kill me before you can finish the job.”

“I’m keeping an eye on him,” Oliver said, “on his soul. So far, he’s panicking over the downfall of his brotherhood and the fact that now all he has left are the ones in Moscow. He’s going to gather them all around him for the sake of protection. It will prove to be futile in the end, but I would say he’s more than likely not going to be ordering any hits until he’s sure the Bratva will survive. If he were living past tonight, then I would be worried about him sending hitmen after you again and again. But he won’t be, even if you don’t land the killing blow.”

“I don’t think I’ll know if I will until that moment comes,” Sara said honestly as they began walking up the back steps to the terrace. “I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

“Yes,” Oliver said softly. “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* It was interesting to come up with the ways for Oliver to kill the members of the Bratva in Star City and National City, even if one was a rehash from an earlier chapter (the poison one).
> 
> *2* When I did the research for this story way back last year, I found that at one point The Spectre had killed the entire country of Vlatava (Count Vertigo’s country) for their crimes. So, he obviously has the power to kill hundreds of thousands or even millions of people all at once. Killing a few hundred in every city he visits over the course of about nine hours would be *child’s play*.
> 
> *3* Due to how the planning for this story panned out, I realized I needed to get a move on with the relationship stuff, and since I had already done more than a few teases from both Oliver and Sara’s perspectives, I decided to get moving on the romance front, and then address the fact they’re leaping into a relationship so soon after his return.


	14. Knyasev

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry about the delay, everyone, but seeing as I’ve achieved burnout on my Lauriver projects at the moment, that should mean I focus on other stuff for a while, including this story. TBH, there’s only a few chapters left by my estimation. Hazard of making what is essentially an all-powerful character.

Oliver Queen and Sara Lance entered the Queen Mansion, hand-in-hand, and made their way to the dining room, aware that it was now almost seven a.m. and breakfast would soon be served. They found the other Queens and Dinah already sitting down at the dining table, Dinah speaking quietly with Moira and Robert. When the two entered hand-in-hand, Dinah’s eyebrows rose, but she smiled softly nonetheless, because Sara had told her thirteen years ago that she had feelings for Oliver. It appeared she had still harbored those feelings and had finally acted on them. While it had likely been out of grief, Dinah could understand that Sara wanted something normal, with her exposure as The Canary, the loss of her father, all of it. And Oliver likely wanted some normalcy, too, after spending all these years away from those he cared about.

“So, this is new,” Dinah said as Oliver and Sara took their seats.

“We got to talking about things,” Sara said quickly, “and I told him about how I had always had feelings for him but didn’t act since he was with Laurel.”

“And I told her I knew about her feelings but didn’t do anything for the same reasons,” Oliver said. “But it’s been thirteen years. Laurel and Tommy are married. Neither Sara nor I have had a long-term relationship in all of that time. Maybe we can find what we’ve been looking for in each other or maybe we’ll find we’re not as compatible as we might’ve been thirteen years ago. But after thirteen years of just _existing_ , I want to start _living_ again.”

“And I’m not about to give up the chance to see if I can have something with Ollie,” Sara said with a shrug.

“Well, I hope you both find happiness in each other,” Moira said, smiling at them. “It would do my heart good if Oliver found love now that he’s home.”

“Yeah, but now that these two are together, the pressure’s gonna be off Sara and on me,” Mia said, half-complaining.

“Nonsense, we won’t be pressuring you until at least twenty-eight,” Robert said teasingly, and his daughter huffed at her father while Oliver chuckled and Moira and Dinah shared a ‘Mom Look’. Sara smiled sympathetically at Mia, who smiled back and mouthed ‘take care of my brother’. Oliver looked annoyed at that while Sara looked amused.

“So, Dad, I guess you’ll be busy today,” Oliver said.

“I will,” Robert said with a nod. “But don’t worry. I’ll get everything done. With any luck, Sara will be able to get her belongings back by the end of the day and take off the meta-dampener.”

“Huh, so I guess there’s no chance of me getting out of this without acknowledging who I am,” Sara said with a sigh.

“Not after the assault on the precinct,” Robert said, grimacing. “Sorry. I don’t mean to open any wounds from Quentin’s death. But Deathstroke attacking the precinct pretty much confirmed who you are, Sara. Any doubt that might’ve been in people’s minds went out the window, then. Oliver knew that, and so he asked me to do what I’ll be doing today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Queen,” Sara said, feeling guilty. “And I’m sorry. You’ve treated me well, but I got so focused on helping the Glades I started disdaining you, your family, the Merlyns, even my own sister because I felt you were ‘out of touch’ with the people in the Glades.”

“I don’t blame you for that, Sara,” Robert said. “The truth is, we _have_ been out of touch with the people there, other than Rebecca. But having you revealed to be The Canary… well, it’s got me thinking about some of my policies. I made the easy choices, not the right ones, like outlawing homelessness everywhere but the Glades. That didn’t help anyone, and its actually made the Glades worse.”

“I was actually thinking I could help on that front,” Oliver said, bringing attention to him. “I was thinking maybe we could transform the old steel factory into a soup kitchen or a homeless shelter, renovate it.”

“That’s a fine idea, Oliver,” Moira praised.

“I just know what it’s like to have nothing, to go day after day wondering where the next meal is coming from,” Oliver said, looking down a little bashfully. “It’s one thing for that to happen on an island with finite supplies. It’s another for it to happen in a city where the grocers make fresh food for their delis daily.” Oliver was also doing this out of guilt, because he had never thought of something like this on Earth-1, instead doing a _nightclub_ of all things when he should’ve renovated the steel factory to help the people in the Glades. Sure, he said the club would gentrify the neighborhood, but had it really, especially when it only lasted three years, two of which weren’t even under his management? “Anyways, I figure we get a local construction company to do the renovations, depending on what we want done with the location.”

Sara smiled to herself, seeing the bright side to her being caught, before she remembered the price that she had paid for this to happen. She looked down, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sara?” Dinah asked concernedly. “Are you alright?” **_*1*_**

“Just… thinking about Dad,” Sara said quietly. “I’m still having a hard time believing he’s gone. I keep expecting him to leap in with a comment about Ollie being a white knight or something.”

“Yes, that is what he would’ve said,” Dinah said, smiling sadly. “But then he would’ve supported it one hundred percent, even got his officers to provide security if needed like he’s done for the clinic a few times.”

“Dinah, I know you’ll be arranging things today,” Robert said. “Remember what I said. We’ll handle the costs, so you do what you need to so that Quentin gets the send-off he deserves.”

“Thank you, Robert,” Dinah said. “Moira, I was hoping you would help me. I-I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“Of course,” Moira said softly. “Mia can handle things at Queen Industries today. It’ll give her some experience for when she eventually takes over.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Mia said with a smile. “I promise I won’t burn down the skyscraper.”

“Very good, dear,” Moira said dryly as the wait staff entered and put plates in front of them all. This morning, Oliver noted, it was Rocky Mountain Toast (egg fried in the center of a piece of toast), hashbrowns, and sausage links that, based on their smell, were maple-flavored.

**_*DC*_ **

Thanks to Robert needing to focus on clearing things up for Sara, Mia handling things at Queen Industries, and Moira and Dinah out arranging things for Quentin’s funeral, Oliver and Sara were left to their own devices at the mansion. Sara, for her part, spent most of it in meditation while Oliver read a book on a family Kindle, figuring it was something to do. He was in the sitting room when Raisa entered. “Mr. Oliver, there’s a Mr. Kent here to see you,” she said. “He says its important.”

“Show him in, Raisa,” Oliver said, setting the Kindle aside for the time being. He had wondered if his actions last night would spark another conversation with the Man of Steel. The fact he was coming in his civilian identity suggested that, at the very least, he wasn’t intending on trying to ‘bring Oliver in’. Oliver sat in silence, and Raisa led Clark in a moment later. “Thank you, Raisa. You can go. Mr. Kent and I have a private matter to discuss.”

“Of course, Mr. Oliver, call if you need anything,” Raisa said, then turned and left the room.

Clark tilted his head, as if judging the distance Raisa was from the room with his super hearing. Once he was satisfied, he spoke. “You were busy last night. You killed dozens of people.”

Oliver shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Kent,” Oliver said. “I would think a reporter of your caliber would gather all of the facts before coming to make some sort of judgment. I didn’t kill _dozens_ of people last night. I killed _thousands_ , and I will kill many thousand more in the days to come as I begin to show the world just what it means for The Spectre to exist. As I keep telling you, Mr. Kent, I am the literal Wrath of God, and I am fulfilling my duties. The days where organized crime, H.I.V.E., the Ninth Circle, Project Cadmus, your pointy-eared friend’s _Rogue’s Gallery_ , and more are allowed to pursue their sick and twisted actions without reprisal are done. By the time I am done, _all_ of them will burn in hellfire in one capacity or another.”

“What gives you the right to do this?” Clark demanded to know.

“As I said, I am the _literal_ Wrath of God,” Oliver said. “I have been tasked with serving as judge, jury, and executioner to the truly wicked of this world, and I will exhaust myself in this charge. You are a hero, Mr. Kent. You do things the way you do because that is what you are. But I am not a hero. Perhaps in another lifetime I might’ve been. Perhaps in another lifetime I might have followed the rules set forth by you and Batman. But things didn’t work out like that. I ended up dedicating myself to fighting evil, and when I died, I was offered the chance to return as The Spectre. I chose to do so. But if you _still_ doubt my power, Mr. Kent…” Oliver stood, approaching Clark, who stiffened apprehensively. Oliver reached out and placed a hand on Clark’s chest, a glow erupting between them as _something_ drained out of Clark. Clark felt incomprehensibly weakened.

“What did you do?” Clark asked.

“I removed your powers,” Oliver said. “For the next forty-eight hours, you will be nothing more than a mortal man, just like I used to be, just like so many people are.”

“And what about the people I could have helped?” Clark asked.

“Perhaps you should reach out to your cousin and ask her to fulfill your duties while you’re incapacitated,” Oliver said. “Or perhaps I will speak to her myself. Yes, I think that would be best. Now, as to your current situation, I’ll be nice and send you back to your hotel room instead of forcing you to walk to a point where you can get a cab. Good day, Mr. Kent.” Oliver waved a hand, and Clark vanished, sent back to his hotel room.

With that done, Oliver stretched out, pinpointing Kara’s location in the city. It appeared she was in her hotel room, looking at the world news and was very surprised to find out most of the Bratva had died last night. Oliver grinned as he felt her attitude towards this. It was not the self-righteous indignation that he would have expected the Kara he had known to have. No, what he sensed was an attitude of genuine respect and awe, springing from Kara’s Kryptonian upbringing. Krypton, it seemed, had had a tendency towards harsh penalties, same as those he dished out as The Spectre. Oliver took a moment to ready himself, then wreathed himself in the robes of The Spectre and traveled to the hotel where Kara was staying (which was not the same one as her cousin).

Kara was sitting cross-legged on her hotel room bed, a laptop in front of her, when The Spectre appeared before her. “ **Kara Zor-El,** ” The Spectre said. “ **It is time we had a talk.** ”

“You saved me the trouble of trying to find you,” Kara said easily after a moment. “What have you got in mind for this talk?”

“ **It is time the air was cleared on who I am, why I am here, and what I am doing,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **Oh, and for the next forty-eight hours, you’ll need to answer calls for help from those your cousin would have aided as Superman. He chose to confront me once again, and this time I stripped him of his powers for two days, more to show him just how powerful I am than because I think spending a couple of days as a human will teach him any sort of lesson.** ”

“I can do that,” Kara said with a nod. “So, he confronted you in your civilian identity? Do I get to know what this is?”

“ **Are you going to reveal it to the public?** ” The Spectre replied.

“No,” Kara said after a moment. “But we can do that last. For now, let’s get the interview out of the way.” She activated an app on her phone to record the conversation, if only for appearances since the yellow sun and her Kryptonian mind gave her a genius-level intellect and perfect memory recall. But she needed to keep Ms. Grant from suspecting her _again_ , so it would be better if she had a recorded conversation. “Alright, so we know who you are, The Spectre. But what does that mean?”

“ **I am the literal wrath of God, Miss Danvers,** ” The Spectre replied, and Kara’s eyebrows shot up over her glasses. “ **This is no exaggeration or attempting to make myself more important than I am. I dedicated my life to defeating evil and when I died, I was offered the chance to return to life as The Spectre, acting as God’s instrument in matters of justice, acting as judge, jury, and executioner to the truly wicked. It is not in my remit to be a hero as this world knows them. No, I am to bring a permanent end to wickedness, to show those who would do evil that the tolerances of society matter not to me. They will all burn in the end.** ”

“Does this have anything to do with the Bratva suddenly becoming an endangered species overnight?” Kara asked.

“ **Yes,** ” The Spectre replied. “ **I have turned my attention to the Bratva and will soon finish them. Then I shall turn my attention to all organized crime. The Italian mafia, the Yakuza, the cartels… all of them will be ash by the time I am done, if there remains anything of them at all. There are other organizations of similar evil that will also face the judgment of The Spectre. These forces have been judged and found wanting.** ”

“Will we see more incidents like when you intervened in Gotham City and killed The Joker and the other supervillains that had kidnapped those kids?” Kara asked.

“ **Yes,** ” The Spectre replied. He did not elaborate and Kara got the impression that it wouldn’t be worth it to press the issue.

“So, to be clear, you are planning to kill thousands of people all over the world in the coming days? Why reveal your plans?” Kara asked. “Especially through a newspaper?”

“ **Because, Miss Danvers, there is not a single force on this planet or in this universe, save for God Himself, that can stop me,** ” The Spectre said, and Kara felt a chill go down her spine at these words. “ **Now, that’s enough for an interview, I think.** ” Kara shut off the recording app, saving the file, and then looked at The Spectre expectantly. He reached up and removed the hood of his robes.

“Huh,” was all Kara could say as she looked into the smirking face of Oliver Queen. **_*2*_**

**_*DC*_ **

As Robert predicted, everything went as hoped, and Sara returned to the mansion that evening with her belongings, her Canary outfit, mask, modulator, and bo staff. Though, as she told Oliver, “Looks like I’ll be dropping the mask and modulator since everyone knows who I am now.”

“Yeah, not much point in a disguise when your secret identity is known,” Oliver acknowledged with a nod. “At least things got settled without you having to go through a trial. That pardon from the governor was nice, but I guess after everything that happened, it would’ve been political suicide for him _not_ to pardon someone people see as a hero, even if you’re not the same kind of hero as Superman and Batman. If he hadn’t, he might’ve been voted out in the next election.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad for it,” Sara said, setting the box with her belongings down. “So, what’s the plan for tonight? With Knyasev?”

“He’s holed up in a bar in Moscow with what’s left of the Bratva, about a hundred men,” Oliver said. “I go in and clean house of all but him, then hold him prisoner before I bring you. I remove his super-strength that he has thanks to the Mirakuru, and then I let the two of you fight. You deserve to bring Knyasev down, Sara. You’ve been working against the Bratva for two years. You’ve earned the right, in my opinion.”

“And what about after this? What will you do then?” Sara asked. “You’ve talked about showing the world what it means to be The Spectre. How do you plan on doing that?”

“Once you’ve finished with Knyasev, I plan to wipe out organized crime in one blow,” Oliver said. “I have the power to do that, and I can do it in a way that tells _everyone_ there’s a new player on the board who doesn’t play by established rules and will do what he knows is right, even if human laws say differently. I don’t expect The Spectre to ever be accepted by people the way that others are, but this isn’t some popularity contest that I’m trying to win.”

“I think you should read that article from Kara Danvers again, Ollie,” Sara said. “The people are reacting well to The Spectre. They’re tired of Batman and Superman’s moralizing and attempts to rehabilitate criminals who come after them again and again.”

“I guess I’m still trapped in the past, when the kind of justice I practice as The Spectre was looked down on because Batman and Superman said so,” Oliver said after a moment.

“Well, stop thinking like that,” Sara said. “Now, we should probably head down for dinner.”

“Yes, we probably should,” Oliver agreed.

**_*DC*_ **

The Spectre appeared in front of the bar in Moscow where Anatoli Knyasev was holed up with what remained of the Bratva and floated forward, waving a hand and disintegrating the door and the wall on either side of it, exposing the inside of the bar to the elements. “ **Anatoli Knyasev,** ” The Spectre said, meeting Anatoli’s eyes from beneath his hood, seeing the man at the very back of the room. “ **You have been judged and found wanting, as have your ‘brothers’.** ” The Spectre waved his hand again, and the men gave gurgled cries of agony as they liquified, collapsing in on themselves and becoming little more than puddles of flesh-colored liquid. Another wave of The Spectre’s hand, and there was nothing there, leaving only The Spectre and Anatoli present.

“If you were honorable man, you would fight me _as_ man,” Anatoli snarled. “You would not hide behind tricks.”

“ **I am not the one who is going to fight you,** ” The Spectre replied, opening a portal beside him. From the portal emerged the figure of The Canary, sans mask and with her bo staff already deployed. “ **It will be The Canary’s pleasure to end your reign of terror. But first…** ” The Spectre snapped his fingers, and the grinning Anatoli suddenly sagged. “ **You’re superhuman strength has been taken from you. You will fight The Canary as a man, and nothing more.** ”

“It is no matter,” Anatoli said, a gleam in his eye as he sized up The Canary. “I will break this bitch, teach her manners, and then I will find way to destroy you.”

“I really don’t like that word, bitch,” The Canary said softly, stepping forward. “You and your thugs terrorized my city for _years_ , Knyasev. Now your so-called brotherhood is gone. You’re all that’s left. And I’ve been looking forward to this fight for two years.” She sank into a fighter’s stance, bo staff extended, and Anatoli sank into his own stance. The two began circling one another. The Canary struck first, swinging her bo staff out quickly, striking like a serpent. The bo staff whacked Anatoli across the face, earning a grunt of pain from the Russian gangster and splitting his lip. He touched his busted lip, examined the blood there, and his eyes narrowed. First blood had gone to The Canary. But it would be him who stood victorious over the bitch’s broken body.

Anatoli suddenly struck, delivering a forward kick to The Canary’s stomach, winding her. He followed up with a solid strike to the side of her head, disorienting her even without the raw brute strength the Mirakuru had gifted him, and her staff fell to the ground. He stepped forward and closed his hands around her throat, thumbs pressing down on her windpipe. The Canary gave a rasping breath before bringing her elbows down on Anatoli’s, breaking his grip, and slammed her head forward into his nose, breaking it, even as she took deep breaths. She hadn’t expected him to still be so strong without what made him superhuman. Now she knew, though, and she could adapt accordingly.

The Canary snatched up her bo staff again and delivered three quick strikes to Anatoli’s body, hitting him in the knee, the ribcage, and finally the right temple. At this last, Anatoli grabbed the bo staff and jerked it forward, bringing The Canary toward him, and he swung, his fist colliding with her jaw, splitting her lip in the process. He followed this up with a straight punch aimed at her nose, but she evaded that one and delivered a knife-hand strike to his throat, then ducked and weaved under his outstretched arms, coming up behind him. She delivered a quick kick to the back of the same knee she had weakened with her bo staff, and he collapsed to his knees. She pinned him with her bo staff, which pressed down on his windpipe and earned a strangled rasp of his own from the Russian crime boss. The Canary took a deep breath, knowing this was the moment of truth, and considered her options. On the one hand, this piece of filth had sent Deathstroke to kill her, was responsible for the deaths of her father and over a dozen policemen and had also sent his men to subject the people of her city to human trafficking. But on the other, she had never taken a life before. She had come close, that one time with the pimp that Batman held against her, when she had first gotten her Cry and used it to teach a pimp a lesson, but she had never actually taken a life and planned on it.

“ **If you cannot do it, I can,** ” The Spectre said softly, putting a hand on The Canary’s shoulder. The Canary nodded, debating within herself, and then she released Knyasev and kicked him forward onto his hands and knees. “ **For your many crimes, Anatoli Knyasev, you will join your instrument of death, Slade Wilson, body and soul in the lowest circle of hell.** ” The Spectre snapped his fingers, and deep red flames engulfed Anatoli and he screamed before vanishing. The Spectre turned The Canary to face him and waved a hand, healing her limited injuries. “ **It’s over, Sara.** ”

“Yeah, it is,” The Canary said softly. “But that’s not the end, is it? Men like him are a dime a dozen. You took down another human trafficker yourself as your first appearance in Star City. The work will never be over, will it?”

“ **No,** ” The Spectre said softly. “ **There will always be those who answer to evil’s call, Sara. There will always be those who wish to profit from the suffering of others. But what I am about to do will keep people from acting for the time being, so you, and so many others, will have a brief reprieve before the next incident.** ” The Spectre held his hands apart, floating away from The Canary, and energy began to pour from both hands, forming a ball of energy which grew large and turbulent, lashing out with bursts of energy. The Canary watched in silence, knowing this was how The Spectre intended to wipe out _all_ organized crime in the world and wondering just how the world would react to the destruction of all organized crime.

The Spectre continued to pour energy into the Sphere of Judgment, as he had nicknamed it in his head, knowing it would take a great deal of energy to wipe out the thousands belonging to organized crime across the globe. So many lives, so much evil, and none could be spared. That was the harsh reality of being who he was. It didn’t matter what the reasons were for their actions, like those who had been victimized by Hunt and then sold their own family into slavery to John Byrne. Guilty was guilty. Finally, The Spectre flung his hands outward in opposite directions, and the Sphere expanded, forming an energy wave that swept through Moscow and then throughout the world, seeking all those who had ties to organized crime. Triad, the Tongs, Yakuza, Italian mafia, the I.R.A., and more. As soon as the wave of energy engulfed them, they burnt to ash in a fire that touched no one and nothing around them, leaving nothing but their ashes behind. The Spectre felt as each life was extinguished, and once it was done, turned to face The Canary. “ **It is done,** ” he said. **_*3*_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Notes:
> 
> *1* So, in this case, Sara’s exposure is actually leading to the Queens thinking over their actions and deciding to do something different.
> 
> *2* Well, there’s Kara and Oliver introduced, officially, and this Kara obviously is more sympathetic to The Spectre than canon Kara might’ve been.
> 
> *3* “The Sphere is Judgment” is just my own name for what Oliver did here to wipe out organized crime. I figure that would fit Oliver being the literal Wrath of God.


	15. The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Unfortunately, I have completely lost the spark for this story, but I didn’t want to delete it again, so instead I’m going to summarize what I had planned for the future of this story. I’m sorry. I wish I could continue, because there were a few things I was looking forward to doing, but the truth is, I made Oliver so powerful in this story that there’s no conflict and there’s only so many times you can come up with creative punishments before you start re-using things. Also, I would have changed the story title from “The Spectre” to “Wrath” if I thought I’d ever need to re-use it, but I’m unlikely to do another “Oliver is The Spectre” story.

Oliver would have not only wiped out all of organized crime and those associated with it he would also have wiped out H.I.V.E. and the Ninth Circle along with their respective leadership. This would have resulted in half of Congress being wiped from existence since they were compromised by either H.I.V.E. or the Ninth Circle. Altogether, roughly five million people world-wide would have been wiped from existence due to their connections to organized crime, H.I.V.E., and the Ninth Circle. Oliver would have been declared Public Enemy Number One worldwide, but he would have used his powers to keep those who know his identity from revealing it, infuriating Superman and Batman since they would be unable to elucidate on his crimes even if they brought him in to an FBI office or something.

The funeral of Quentin Lance would have been a grand affair, with Jim Gordon flying out to be a pall-bearer along with Lucas Hilton, Oliver, Robert, Tommy, and Malcolm. Franklin Pike would have been made the new Commissioner of the S.C.P.D. and given Sara, now a public hero as The Canary, a police liaison in the form of McKenna Hall. Sara would have faced a medical review board and had her medical license revoked because of her breaking of the Hippocratic Oath, specifically the promise to ‘do no harm’. As a result, she would have started her own flower shop, Lance Floral, and moved into the Glades since she would no longer be able to afford her downtown apartment. Oliver would have used his powers to protect her home from those who came with ill intent, causing any who came to harm or kill Sara to be burnt to ash by the protections.

Oliver would then have turned his focus on killing potent evils like Lex Luthor, Vandal Savage, Amanda Waller, etc. Lex he would have left a babbling mess whose mind was utterly ruined, robbing him of his brilliance and cunning and making him little more than a lump of barely-sentient flesh. Savage he would have stripped of his immortality before blasting into thousands of pieces and scattering them all across the universe so that he could never be reconstituted even with magic. Waller he would have simply obliterated with extreme prejudice.

Oliver would then have returned to Gotham City to finish what he started and kill the rest of Batman’s Rogues’ Gallery. He would have stormed Arkham Asylum and hunted them down one-by-one, and then been confronted by Batman and Robin. Since Oliver, as The Spectre, sees everything when in his spectral form, he would have realized that Robin/Tim Drake was only _fourteen_ , the same age as William, and _lost_ it, especially when he found Bruce has always used ‘child soldiers’ and abused them in the name of keeping them disciplined, leading ultimately to the death of Jason Todd at the hands of The Joker when Jason was sixteen. Oliver would have frozen Tim and then obliterated Batman, then taken Tim to a special rehab facility to be treated for the abusive conditioning and brainwashing he had endured at the hands of Batman. (Note: originally, Bruce was going to be sent to a private rehab clinic to treat his obvious broken mind, but then I realized that The Spectre is all about extreme punishments and only that, so judging someone for using child soldiers would have to be extreme and not something ‘tame’ like rehab.)

Following this, Oliver would have turned his attention on Project Cadmus, run by Wade Eiling and Samuel Lane, which focused on not only forcibly awakening people’s metagene but also trying to give people powers by combining humans with alien DNA or technology, like with Hank Henshaw/Cyborg Superman. Oliver would have shut down every Project Cadmus facility, freeing the people held there for testing, and then gone for Eiling and Lane. He would have merged them together in a grotesque fashion and left them with two warring minds, which would’ve driven them insane. This would eventually get back to Lois, who despite her problems with her father still loved him, and this would have her turning to Clark in grief and asking him to take down The Spectre.

Clark would have come to Star City and engaged Oliver, and Oliver would have transported them to Lian Yu where they duked it out with Clark fighting with all of his might and Oliver calling on all of his power as The Spectre, including his power over the elements and summoning a storm to bring its power against Superman. Finally, after becoming bored of Clark’s attempts to take him down, he would have stripped him of his powers completely and left him on Lian Yu for the space of one year, placing a ward around the island which would keep anyone who might help Clark from coming to the island while further attracting ‘the wrong sort’ and saying that Clark can learn what it means to fight evil as a mortal man. Oliver informs Clark he will not act in his defense against any evil men who come to the island, that Clark will have to prove his will to live is stronger than his hatred of Oliver, and that Oliver will return to Lian Yu in one year to see if Clark has learned his lesson or died. Then Oliver departs and visits Lois, informing her what he has done, then returns to Star City. In the end, Clark would have died on Lian Yu because his hatred for Oliver would only deepen and Oliver would know he couldn’t allow him to have his powers returned to him.

Oliver would continue to visit judgments on the wicked while growing closer to Sara, with the two of them eventually getting engaged and married. Oliver would have remained The Spectre for thirty years before giving it up to enjoy his twilight years as a grandparent with Sara at his side.


End file.
